


The Ferelden Chronicles

by ParisWriter



Series: The Chronicles of Thedas [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Canon - Video Game, Coming of Age, F/M, Fantasy, Loss of Innocence, Mage Origin, Origins, POV Third Person Omniscient, Romance, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Swearing, True Love, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 86,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParisWriter/pseuds/ParisWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varia Surana thought her life had already been mapped out for her. She would be a mage of the Circle of Ferelden, studying and perfecting her craft. However, an unforeseen series of events sends her headlong into a world thrown into chaos by the King's death and an impending Blight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Final Test

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Dragon Age characters, settings, and any dialogue taken from the game ©BioWare. Varia belongs to me. 
> 
> This story will follow the events of Dragon Age: Origins almost in their entirety. It will cover the complete Mage Origin, as well as the main quests of the game, the DLC quests (Soldier's Peak, recruiting Shale, and Return to Ostagar), and a few side-quests that are especially relevant to the story. The events of Awakening will be covered in a separate story.

 

 **Chapter One**  
  
It was a fairly warm day in western Ferelden, given the time of year. A chilly autumn breeze occasionally blew through the changing leaves on the trees, serving as a reminder to those who ventured outside to enjoy the sun as the coming winter was just around the corner. Children ran about the small town while their mothers bartered for the supplies they would need in the months to come, while others sang and danced and drank in celebration of the bountiful harvest the Maker had seen fit to bestow upon them.  
  
A few people continued to work the fields of the local farmstead despite it being so late in the season. There were pumpkins and other squashes to be harvested before the first frost threatened to claim them, after all. Most of the workers were human, but a few elves had been passing through looking for work and the farmer who owned the land was more than happy to have the extra hands – even if it did bother some of the more closed-minded residents of the town. They warned him that elves were savages and were likely to kill him and his wife in their sleep before making off with everything of value in his home. It was all hogwash, as far as he was concerned. In all his years, he had never met an elf who had been anything less than hard-working and respectful.  
  
The farmer turned his gaze from those working his land and focused instead on the child who had been traveling with the elves who had stopped in the village. She was four, maybe five years old, with wide grey eyes and blonde hair that shimmered red when the sunlight hit it just right. She was small for her age, even for an elf, but her mother was a seamstress and had altered her clothes to better fit her tiny form. The other children in the village had refused to play with her – they had even gone so far as to call her names and throw pebbles at her – and so she had taken up a spot in a pile of hay near the plot of land where her father was working, playing with a patchwork bear that had seen better days.  
  
"It's all right, Mister Cuddles," the girl told the bear in her tiny voice, moving its arms about as she spoke in the comforting way a mother would to a child. "Those mean boys and girls aren't going to hurt us any more. Papa said we can stay here for now, and tomorrow we'll help Mother with the mending and washing."  
  
"Varia!"  
  
The girl heard her mother calling her name and her head turned to look for her, pigtails flying about her face as she frantically whipped her head from side to side. She knew she had heard her name being called, but she couldn't see her mother anywhere.  
  
"Varia!" the voice called again, only this time it didn't sound quite like her mother. She clutched her toy bear close to her chest and began making her way toward the farmhouse, where she knew her mother was helping the farmer's wife bake pies. After a few steps a hand came down onto her left shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.  
  
"Varia? Come, child, wake up."  
  
Varia Surana opened her eyes to find her mentor, First Enchanter Irving of the Ferelden Circle of Magi, seated on the side of her bed. She blinked a few times, looking around to find the other apprentices still asleep in their beds, then returned her attention to the man she had looked up to for the better part of her life.  
  
"First Enchanter? What is it?" she asked, sitting up in her bed. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Irving hushed her, bringing a finger to his lips. Standing from his perch on the side of the bed, he held out a hand to her expectantly. Still confused as to what was going on, Varia pushed aside the blankets and stood, taking a moment to slide on her slippers before allowing him to lead her from the female apprentices' quarters. She was already dressed – as was customary for the older apprentices – because one never knew when they might be collected to go for their Harrowing.  
  
She briefly paused in her steps as realization finally dawned on her. It was the middle of the night, and her mentor had come to rouse her from her sleep. That could mean only one thing: She was being taken to the uppermost floor of the tower to undergo her final test to become an official mage of the Ferelden Circle of Magi. The First Enchanter noticed the hesitation in her stride and glanced over his shoulder at her. Seeing the epiphany written across her young face, he couldn't help but smile to himself as he turned his attention ahead of them once more.  
  
"This has been a long time coming, child," he told her. "I actually petitioned to have you undergo this test last year, but Greagoir interfered. He was afraid you were too young and inexperienced and that you would surely fail."  
  
"One would think he would have been happy to have me do it, then, if he believed me so doomed," Varia replied, her voice tinged slightly with bitterness. Being the First Enchanter's apprentice, she had overheard many arguments between him and the Knight-Commander over the years. It had not taken her long to form her own opinions about the man, who seemed to have a distinct dislike toward the use of magic.  
  
"You do not understand," Irving said with a sigh. "Greagoir only does what he thinks is best, for all of us. Sometimes he may seem to be unreasonable, but his duty is to keep us all safe. That is precisely why he did not wish you to undergo your Harrowing before you were ready. Though he may never admit it, he does not cherish having to cut down those who fail. He actually protested again when I once more brought up wanting to have you go through with it, but I managed to talk him into agreeing this time."  
  
"Do you really think I'm ready?" she asked, fear gripping at her slightly. Though it was forbidden for those who had gone through the rite to speak about it, she had seen plenty of mages who had been affected by the test. Most recently, a young man named Wendell had taken his Harrowing, and then threw up every time anyone mentioned it to him for the next week.  
  
Irving stopped walking and turned to her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and giving her a warm smile.  
  
"I _know_ you are ready," he told her, unable to hide how proud he was of his young student. "I knew you were ready a year ago. You are truly gifted, Varia. You always have been, since the day I first brought you here."  
  
It had been just over ten years since she came to live at the Circle. He had received a letter from the arl of Redcliffe about a young elven girl he had suspected of possessing magical abilities. At first, Irving had been incredulous. After all, the letter stated that the child in question had likely killed a man with her magic. Normally, a Templar would have been sent out to collect the child, but Irving had feared for the child's safety – particularly if she was as powerful as the arl had claimed – and so he had personally gone to visit the girl in order to assess her abilities and ended up bringing her back to the Circle with him when he returned.  
  
The arl had explained that she had witnessed a horrific crime against her own family – which was likely what had caused her to release such a powerful force of magic, Irving knew – and that she seemed rather traumatized by the experience. Whether it was the crime she had witnessed or the use of her own powers that had traumatized her more, the arl could not tell. Irving had dismissed that fear of her magic had any effect on her, though, after showing her a simple fire spell to test her abilities. The wonder he had seen light up her eyes as she held the glowing ball of fire in her hands had told him two things: That she truly was as powerful as the arl's letter had suggested, and that she needed to go to the Circle immediately in order to begin her proper training.  
  
She had studied the arts of magic directly under his supervision, showing that she had an innate talent working with primal forces, which was his specialty. She was his first apprentice since he had become First Enchanter, as he had too busy in dealing with the templars and other day-to-day duties around the tower following his appointment to the position. The arrangement had certainly caused both of them some problems, such as jealousy from the other apprentices and the occasional claim of favoritism he endured from some of the more vocal Senior Enchanters, but he knew it was the best decision. There were other mages in the tower who were skilled in primal magic, but she had required special attention – or else they might have ended up with a hole blasted through one of the tower walls, after which the templars probably would have insisted she be made tranquil.  
  
"I can do this," Varia said with a nod after taking a deep breath. Whether she was saying it to assure him she was going to be alright or to allay her own fears, he could not say. Either way, he knew she was right. She could do this – she _would_ do this – and then Greagoir would have no choice but to admit he was wrong.  
  
They walked the rest of the way in silence, and as they gradually ascended the tower Varia mentally ran through every spell she knew, staring at her hands as she mimed the proper gestures of some of the more complex spells she had been learning recently. She hoped that whatever this test consisted of, it didn't include a portion that tested her abilities in healing or supportive spells. Her talents had always been with the raw and often hostile forces of nature, bending them to her will in a way meant to damage her enemies, not assist her allies. She had done her best to at least learn some very basic healing techniques, but she was nowhere near as good at it as some of the other apprentices and mages were – like a certain mage who kept escaping the tower only to be brought back time and again by the templars.  
  
"First Enchanter."  
  
Varia stopped walking and looked up to find they were in a small room with a stone staircase against one wall which led up to a very heavy-looking door. Glancing back over her shoulder at the way they had come, she discovered that they were at the end of the hallway leading through the templar quarters. She had only been in this part of the tower once before, and she shuddered as she remembered the circumstances which had brought her here on that occasion.  
  
"Don't tell me the Knight-Commander has changed his mind about allowing this," Irving said with an exasperated sigh.  
  
"No, First Enchanter," the templar who had stopped them from ascending the stairs replied, shaking his head. "He has, however, requested to speak with you before things are to begin – _alone_ ," he added, giving Varia a very pointed look.  
  
_Just great_ , Varia thought, crossing her arms over her chest. _Leave me alone in the templar quarters with a templar who clearly doesn't think very highly of mages_.  
  
"Very well," Irving agreed, turning briefly to Varia. "I will be but a moment, child."  
  
Varia nodded and wandered over to the far side of the room to lean against the wall next to the doorway, watching as Irving went up the stairs and disappeared behind the door leading to the Harrowing Chamber. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and the templar as possible, as well as give herself a quick exit in case she needed one. It was unlikely she'd get very far, being surrounded by dozens of templars sleeping in their beds, but she was willing to take the chance if it came to that.  


* * *

  
  
"I do not know why you are putting up such a fight over this, Greagoir. You have seen what she can do. You know that she is ready."  
  
"There's a reason that mages are supposed to remain in their apprenticeship until they have reached at least their twentieth year, Irving," Knight-Commander Greagoir argued, gesturing with his hands as he paced back and forth. "She is still a child. She does not have sufficient mental capacity to resist the temptations of a demon."  
  
"I hardly think age has anything to do with whether or not one can resist what a demon may offer," Irving insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. "After all, plenty of adults are known to have given into their temptations. If you think it is a matter of maturity... Need I remind you of everything that poor girl has gone through, both before she came here as well as afterward? Some of that at the hands of two of your own templars, nonetheless."  
  
Greagoir stopped pacing and turned to look at the other man, shame written across his face. It was his duty to keep his men in line and focused, and it had completely escaped his knowledge that several of them had been abusing their power over the mages in the tower in order to get them to do whatever they wanted – willingly or not. Varia had nearly been one of their victims, and would have been if not for one of his younger knights interrupting. Luckily, Cullen had a good head on his shoulders and knew that what the others were doing was inexcusable. He had brought Varia directly to the templar quarters to report the incident, which in turn led to the dismissal of the men involved in the abuse of Maker knows how many others within the tower walls.  
  
"I think anyone who has endured what she has and not lost themselves to despair possesses _sufficient_ mental capacity for this, do you not?" Irving asked, one of his dark eyebrows raising slightly as a smirk pulled on his lips. Greagoir gave a short laugh. He hated to admit it, but that man knew how to argue his point.  
  
"Very well," he conceded, nodding to one of the templars standing next to him. "Go bring her up. Martin, you'll be the one watching her for signs of possession during the ritual."  
  
"Actually, I was hoping that Cullen might do it," Irving suggested.  
  
"What?" Greagoir asked, his eyes wide in surprise. He hadn't been expecting _that_.  
  
"He has been good enough to watch over her since the incident," Irving explained. "I daresay she trusts him, perhaps even considers him a friend."  
  
"What does that have to do with you wanting him to kill her if she fails?" Greagoir wondered, failing to see him logic.  
  
"If I were to have my life taken from me by someone because I was possessed, I would rather have it done by a friend who is committing an act of mercy than by someone who might very well be doing it out of sheer enjoyment."  
  
Greagoir almost pointed out that the templars didn't kill mages because they enjoyed doing it, but he knew that wasn't entirely true. He had met his fair share over the years who complained that the Chantry was restricting them and that it was their duty to snuff out everyone with magic in their bloodline, mage or not, in order to prevent them from rising up and taking over the world.  
  
"Very well," he acquiesced, then turned to call the young knight over to where they were standing.  
  
"Yes, Knight-Commander?" Cullen addressed his superior upon approaching them, bowing respectfully.  
  
"You will be dealing the killing blow if the mage becomes possessed," Greagoir informed him.  
  
"What?" Cullen said, his skin blanching and his green eyes going wide as he began to stammer. "M-Me? But I... I've never..."  
  
"There's a first time for everything," Greagoir told him with a sad smile. "Know that if it comes down to that, you will be performing a service for the Maker as well as for your friend."  
  
"Y-Yes, Ser," Cullen replied quietly, his head bowed, and silently went to retake his place with the other templars who would be witnessing the Harrowing. Greagoir watched him carefully as he left, his shoulders slumped and his head hung low, and wondered just how much the boy actually cared for her. By the time she was ascending the last of the stairs to the Harrowing Chamber, though, he was back to standing at attention with his fellow knights.  
  
"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him," he said as he turned to the young elven mage once she had come to stand at the side of her mentor, reciting the line of the Chant which stood as the oath of the Circle of Magi. "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse, for demons of the dream realm – The Fade – are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."  
  
Varia's eyes went wide at the way he emphasized the word 'demons.' She hoped that what he was saying didn't mean what she thought it meant, but in her heart she knew she was right. Why else would the Harrowing be such a traumatic experience to so many mages?  
  
"This is why the Harrowing exists," Irving told her. "The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed only with your will."  
  
And there it was. Her suspicions confirmed, she cast an apprehensive glance toward the nearby stand. It was holding a bowl full of some sort of substance giving off a soft bluish-white glow – probably lyrium. Her earlier fear returned, tenfold.  
  
"What happens if I cannot defeat the demon?" she asked, her voice barely audible.  
  
"It will turn you into an abomination," Greagoir answered before Irving had a chance to speak, "and the templars will be forced to slay you."  
  
"Is there any other option?" she asked, laughing to mask her nervousness.  
  
"There is Tranquility–"  
  
"Is losing all your magic an 'option'?" Irving cut off Greagoir's statement before turning his attention to her. "No. Like I said on our way here, I have faith that you will succeed."  
  
"Know this, apprentice," Greagoir gave her a final warning. "If you fail, we templars will do our duty. You will die."  
  
Varia's gaze drifted over to the small group of templars who stood nearby, quietly talking with one another. She immediately recognized one of them as Cullen, even though he had his back to her. She could never mistake those dark blonde curls.  
  
"Very well, then," she stated, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high. "Might as well get this over with."  
  
Greagoir nodded, raising his arm and gesturing toward the glowing substance in the nearby vessel.  
  
"This is lyrium: the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade."  
  
"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child," Irving said to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to look up at him, still a bit unsure about the whole thing.  
  
"Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."  
  
"The apprentice must go through this test _alone_ , First Enchanter," Greagoir reminded him.  
  
"I know, Greagoir," Irving told him. "I was merely offering my student some last-minute advice."  
  
Greagoir turned his attention to Varia, his eyes searching hers briefly. Irving was right. She might have been young, but her eyes showed maturity well past her physical age. He had seen mages several years older than her who did not possess such a trait. Suddenly, his earlier concern seemed quite foolish.  
  
"You _are_ ready," he told her, hoping his tone of voice conveyed the faith he now had in her succeeding.  
  
Varia took a deep breath to steel her nerves and stepped toward the lyrium, casting another glance over to the group of templars who would be observing her. Her eyes met Cullen's, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was terrified that it would be the last time he saw her alive. She gave him a small smile, attempting to assure him that everything would be fine, then reached out to touch the lyrium in the vessel before her. Her fingers had barely made contact with the substance when she suddenly found herself enveloped in a burst of white light.  
  
Greagoir quickly stepped forward when she touched the lyrium, catching her body before she fell and gently lowering her to the floor. She was alive, but her consciousness was now in the Fade. All they could do was wait... and pray.


	2. A Harrowing Ordeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia undergoes her Harrowing and learns that things are not always as they seem in the Fade.

 

 

 

**Chapter Two**

Varia kept her eyes shut tightly, forcing back a wave of nausea which threatened to overtake her. She now fully understood why Wendell had gotten sick at the mere mention of the Harrowing after taking his. Being forcibly pulled from your own body and into the Fade was _quite_ a different experience from visiting it in one's dreams.

After a moment, she slowly opened her eyes and softly gasped at the sight before her. This was _not_ how she remembered the Fade. In her dreams, she was always in a grassy field or at that farmstead where her father had last worked before he died. Occasionally, she would be at a castle, riding horses with a prince. But this... This was nothing more than a desolate wasteland – and it was all hazy. Her eyes refused to focus entirely, no matter how many times she squeezed them shut and opened them again. She could see some sort of fortress off in the distance, but couldn't make it out clearly. Was that where she was to go in order to complete her Harrowing?

She took a cautious step forward, still feeling a bit out of sorts, and paused when everything started to spin around her. Looking around for a place to sit and rest for a moment, she noticed a tall, grotesque statue with a small outcropping of glowing blue rock near its base. She said a small prayer of thanks under her breath and went over to the rock to sit down, but something didn't feel quite right as she approached it. The closer she grew to the rock, the more it glowed, and by the time she reached it she had realized why: The rock was pure, unrefined lyrium. She could feel the magic reverberating off it as it pulsed a vibrant blue color, the waves calming her and clearing her head in a matter of seconds.

Feeling renewed and ready to continue forward, Varia set out on the only visible path ahead of her. The ground beneath her feet was dusty and well-worn, and she momentarily wondered just how many mages had traversed this very same path over the years. She was pulled from her thoughts by a low, buzzing sound, however, and glanced up to find a wisp wraith floating in the air several feet ahead. The wisp glowed softly, white sparks dancing around its center as it simply hovered in the air. Then, without warning, the light emanating from it became almost blindingly bright and it threw a bolt of energy directly at her.

Varia didn't react quickly enough, and she ended up being dazed when the wisp's attack hit her at full force. She swore under her breath and concentrated on a shield spell, and when the wisp attempted to send another bolt of arcane energy at her it was easily deflected. She responded in kind, flicking her wrist and sending an arcane bolt right back to the wisp. The spell hit its mark and the wisp instantly burst, sending tiny particles of shimmering energy into the air.

"That was entirely too easy," Varia muttered to herself, and she set forward along the path once again. She reminded herself, though, that this was not her _true_ test. The demon Irving had spoken of – wherever it may be hiding – was the thing she had to be worried about.

She encountered another wisp several hundred yards along the path from where the first one had been, but this time she was ready for it. By the time it launched its attack, she already had her shield up and had sent out an attack of her own. The wisp burst at the very same moment its weak energy bolt dissolved into her shield.

"Someone else thrown to the wolves," came a voice from somewhere nearby. "As fresh and unprepared as ever."

"Who's there?" Varia asked, looking around for the source of the voice, all of her senses suddenly on full alert in case this was the demon she had been sent to face.

"It isn't right that they do this, you know," the voice continued to speak. "Not to you, me, anyone."

Varia noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye and whipped her head around to find a large brown rat scampering across the ground toward her. It stopped at her feet and sat up on its hind legs, and she wondered if this creature had been the source of the voice that was speaking to her.

"You're... a talking rat?" she asked the rodent. It threw back its head and scoffed in reply, its tail twitching slightly in an annoyed manner.

"You think you're _really_ here, in that body?" it asked her, sounding amused. "You only look like that because you _think_ you do! Stupid girl."

The rat let out a heavy sigh, shaking its head and staring sullenly at the ground for a moment before looking back up at her.

"I'm sorry. I should not have taken my anger out on you," it apologized. "It's just... It's always the same. But it's not your fault, is it? It's the templars' fault. You're just stuck in the same boat I was."

Varia blinked in surprise when the rat suddenly began to change shape, taking a step back away from it. White light surrounded it and it grew larger, taller – and when the light faded away, there was a man standing where the rat had been.

"Allow me to welcome you to the Fade, traveler," the man – who didn't appear to be much older than herself – greeted her. "You can call me... Well... Mouse is fine, I suppose."

"That's not your real name, I take it?" Varia asked, warily eying him. She had never heard of a mage who could change form into that of an animal. Besides, it did her no good to let her guard down at any point during this venture. Her very life depended upon it.

"I can't remember my name," Mouse told her. "I've been here so long... It's all fuzzy, that time before. I remember being woken up in the middle of the night and taken to the Harrowing Chamber. And then... Well, I don't have to tell _you_ , do I? You already know what comes after that."

"So you've been trapped here in the Fade since you took your Harrowing?" Varia wondered. It seemed odd. From everything she had read about the Fade, souls did not remain there once the mortal body died. They either moved on to the Maker's side or were cast into the Void.

"The templars kill you if you take too long," Mouse informed her. "Even if you're not showing outward signs of possession, they figure you failed and they do it out of fear that something might get out. That's what they did to me, I'm almost certain of it. I have no body to reclaim. And you, friend, don't have much time before they'll do the very same thing to you."

Varia nodded slowly, taking his warning to heart while also maintaining a healthy dose of skepticism. Something was _definitely_ off about this Mouse character.

"How much time do I have, exactly?" she asked, wondering if she could somehow get him to slip up and say something that would reveal his true motives for approaching her.

"I... I don't remember, exactly," Mouse replied, stumbling over his own words. "I ran away and hid. Time here works differently than in the mortal world, so I can't really be sure how long I've been here, to tell you the truth."

"Then I suppose I best get going and find this demon I am to face," Varia told him, turning away and continuing along the path.

"I'll follow you, if that's alright," she heard him call from behind her, and a moment later the rat was scurrying along right beside her.

Varia didn't protest. She didn't exactly _trust_ the rat... man... whatever he was, but perhaps he could give her some insight as to what she could expect during her test.

"What can you tell me about this place?" she asked him, turning her gaze forward once more.

"There's something here, contained, just waiting for an apprentice like you," Mouse said. Varia couldn't help but notice a touch of fear in his voice and turned to look at him briefly. His ears and whiskers were trembling, and his voice was barely audible as he continued.

"It is a demon. Your task is to face it, resist it, and defeat it. Only then will you be allowed to leave this accursed place."

Mouse seemed to realize he was being watched and stopped walking. He stood up on his back legs once more and looked up at Varia, his head tilted to one side.

"I'm sorry if I am frightening you. Not _all_ spirits here are evil, you know. There are helpful ones, too. They could probably tell you more about this place than I can. Perhaps some of them would even be willing to help you. That is, if you can believe anything you see here."

Varia almost laughed at that remark. She still wasn't sure she believed _him_ , but parts of his story seemed valid enough. Perhaps he really was an apprentice who had become trapped here after the templars killed him simply because they were bored and tired of waiting for him to complete his Harrowing one way or the other. She would have to remember to ask Irving about it when she got back.

"I'll keep that in mind," she simply said, and the two of them continued walking in silence. Eventually, they came to a large, open space. Varia was about to go investigate, but Mouse grabbed at her robes with one of his tiny paws.

"There is a dangerous spirit nearby," he warned her, his ears trembling once more. "Do not go near it unless you are truly ready."

"I take it that means this is where I will find the demon I am to face?" Varia inquired.

"Yes, and you are not ready to face it, yet. You're going to need some sort of weapon, first."

"Right. And where, exactly, am I to find one of those?" she asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"Follow me," Mouse instructed before scurrying off. Varia sighed and followed him, remembering to keep alert. Perhaps he really did know where she could find a weapon to use against the demon, but it was just as likely that he could be leading her right into a trap.

The two of them came across another wisp and a pair of spirit wolves on their way to the place where Mouse said she would be able to find a weapon. He shifted out of his rat form to fight alongside her, but even with his help it was the simple healing spell Irving had insisted she learn which had saved them. Once their enemies had been defeated, Mouse looked around and let out a groan.

"What?" Varia said, turning to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"We've gone too far," he told her. "There _is_ another spirit nearby, but..."

"But?"

"Well, it may not be willing to help us. Let us see, though."

He shifted once more into his smaller rat form and continued along the path, and Varia trailed several paced behind him. As soon as she saw the creature ahead, she stopped. Mouse was right – this did _not_ look like the type of spirit who would be willing to help them. It was a large, bear-like creature with spikes protruding from its fur... and it was fast asleep. Surely, he didn't actually mean for them to wake it up?

"Come on," Mouse coaxed her. "Ask him if he'll help us."

"Me?" Varia asked, pointing to herself. "This was _your_ idea! _You_ wake it up."

Mouse sighed and walked up to the spirit, holding out one of his tiny paws. With one quick swipe, he brought his claws down across the creature's nose... and then promptly ran to stand behind Varia.

"Thanks," she muttered under her breath as the creature woke up with a loud yawn.

"Hmm," it muttered, looking her over. "So, you're the mortal being hunted? And the small one... Is he to be a snack for me?"

Varia felt Mouse clutch the bottom of her robes with both his front paws and couldn't help smirking a bit. He thought he'd gotten away without being detected. Apparently, the spirit wasn't as deep a sleeper as he'd thought it was.

"I don't like this," he said, peeking out from behind her legs. "He isn't going to help us. We should just go."

"No matter," the spirit said rather nonchalantly. "The demon will get you, eventually. Perhaps there will even be some scraps left over for me."

"What kind of spirit are you?" Varia asked the spirit, who had stood up and was now eying her even more intently – no doubt wondering how she would taste as his evening meal.

"It's a demon," Mouse replied, still cowering behind her, "perhaps even more powerful than the one chasing you."

"Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal," the demon said, flopping back down to the ground and closing his eyes once more. Apparently, he had decided that it wouldn't be worth the effort to kill her for the meager amount of flesh on her bones. "Begone!"

"Come on," Mouse insisted, finally shifting out of his rat form in order to attempt to push Varia back the way they had come. She twisted away from him and took a step closer to the demon.

"I need help defeating another demon," she said.

"If you listen to your friend and go back the way you came, you'll find a rather pompous spirit who can equip you with a very nice staff."

"I was hoping you might be able to teach Mouse to be like you," she suggested, causing Sloth to open one eye and look up at her quizzically.

"Be like me?" he asked, raising his head. "You mean, take on this form?"

Varia nodded. Sloth turned his attention to Mouse, appraising him for a long while before speaking again.

"If you had asked that I teach _you_ , mortal, I would have said no. After all, most mortals are too attached to their own forms to learn the change. However, I do believe that I could teach your friend here... for a price."

"What sort of price?" Varia asked, suddenly regretting not having taken Mouse's advice to leave when they had the chance.

"Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you," Sloth offered.

"That sounds easy enough," Mouse said, genuinely surprised by the proposal.

"Fail, and I will devour you both," Sloth added, grinning.

"I should've guessed there would be a catch."

"I agree to your challenge, Sloth," Varia told the demon, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Truly?" Sloth asked, sitting up. "Well, now... This gets more and more promising. As you wish, then. The first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

"A map," Varia answered. That one had been easy. She guessed they would get harder along the way, but she had a logical way of thinking and was fairly sure she would be able to answer any riddle the demon may throw at them.

"Correct," Sloth responded, sounding disappointed. "Let's move on. The second riddle: I am rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

"My tongue," Varia replied, thinking of all the times Irving had warned some of the other mages to hold their tongue in the presence of templars when speaking out about some of their more questionable practices.

"Yes, your witty tongue," Sloth said before letting out a loud yawn. "Fair enough. One more try, shall we?"

"I am ready," Varia told him.

"Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"

Varia stood silently, running the words through her head over and over and thinking about what the answer might be.

"Come on," Mouse urged next to her. "You _have_ to get this right, or he's going to _eat us_."

"A dream," she said while looking at Mouse, her lips curving upward into a smile. She turned her attention back to Sloth and found him looking at her with narrowed eyes. Apparently, he hadn't expected her to get that last one right.

"You are correct," he growled. "Rather apropos here in the Fade, no?

"Very well," he said, standing up and turning to Mouse. "A deal is a deal. You have won my challenge, and I shall hold up my end of the bargain. Come, little one, and I will teach you to take my form."

The two of them wandered off a bit together, and Varia walked over to the edge of a nearby cliff to gaze at the fortress in the distance. It appeared to be some sort of castle, but it was completely black. A small gasp escaped her when it finally dawned on her what she was looking at: _The_ Black City. That was the Maker's great hall which the magisters of ancient Tevinter had defiled with their very presence. It was a cautionary tale all mages were taught immediately upon first arriving at the Circle, a lesson in how one's vanity and pride can often be their greatest downfall, and the very reason for their oath being what it was: _Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base._

She remembered the day she had taken that oath seven years ago, when she had been promoted from a Student Apprentice to a full Apprentice. That was the day Irving had given her the yellow satin ribbon she always wore in her hair, along with a promise that the next morning they would finally start practicing some of the more complex fire spells she had shown an interest in. By the end of the week, she was able to accurately project a steady stream of flames at a target fifty feet away.

"Like this? Am I doing it right?" she heard Mouse say somewhere behind her, and she turned around to find he had transformed into a large black bear.

"Am I a bear?" he asked, looking at her.

Varia nodded, smiling at the larger form he was now able to take. "Yes, Mouse. You are, indeed, a bear."

Sloth scoffed, apparently not as satisfied with the results of the impromptu training session. "Close enough."

"It feels... heavy," Mouse complained, lifting a paw experimentally and looking at it.

"Go, then," Sloth ordered them, yawning. "Defeat your demon, or whatever it is you plan to do. I grow tired of your mortal prattling."

He fell heavily to the ground, fast asleep, and Varia turned to make her way back in the direction they had come from. Mouse walked slightly behind her, his movements not nearly as fluid as they had been before, due to the larger, more cumbersome frame which he was unused to walking around in. They were attacked by another pair of spirit wolves, and Varia was impressed that Mouse was not only able to keep their attention on him, but that he also managed to get off a few good swipes with his paw that did substantial damage to both of them at the same time. The fight this time was much shorter than the last pair of spirit wolves they had faced, and she didn't even need to heal either of them.

A little farther down the path, Varia noticed another spirit standing on a knoll, surrounded by racks of weapons. Perhaps this was the one Sloth had spoken of? Determined to find out – or, at the very least, get a weapon to defend herself with from the demon – she walked up the slight slope to greet the spirit.

"Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see," the spirit stated before she had a chance to even open her mouth. "Your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon."

"Who are you?" Varia asked the spirit, wondering if _every_ denizen in the Fade knew why she was there.

"I am Valor, a warrior spirit," the spirit replied. "I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat. That you remain means you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come."

"Right," Varia replied with a slight nod. Sloth had said the spirit she needed to find would be pompous. This Valor certainly fit the bill. Craning her neck, she looked around the spirit at the weapons on the racks as well as the few which were now floating about in the air. Somehow, she knew the ones that were floating were Valor's favorites – the ones he most wanted to show off to her.

"Did you make all these?" she asked, indicating the weapons with a wave of her hand.

"They are brought into being by my will," Valor answered, and even though she couldn't see his face due to the helmet he was wearing, she could tell he was grinning proudly as he spoke. "I understand that in your world, only mages can will things into being."

"And these weapons would inflict harm upon the demon I am to face?" Varia wondered, reaching out to run her fingers along a particularly well-crafted staff as it floated past her head.

"Without a doubt," Valor assured her.

"Then I will take this staff," she told him, grasping the weapon out of the air and pulling it to herself.

"Do you _truly_ desire one of my weapons?" the spirit asked, sounding a bit surprised. Varia looked at him quizzically and wondered if she was the first mage to seek out his help during their Harrowing. Actually, she wouldn't have been surprised if she was. He was wearing what appeared to be templar armor, after all. She didn't know many mages who would trust anyone wearing that armor – not even if the one wearing it was merely a spirit.

"I will allow you to take that staff," Valor continued, pointing to the weapon she held in her hands, "if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it should be tested."

"You want me to _duel_ you?" Varia asked, raising an eyebrow and shifting a bit uncomfortably on her feet. He was a warrior, in much heavier armor than the enchanted robes she had on. Not only that, but he was a Fade spirit. He could grant himself whatever powers he wanted to, if he so desired. Dueling him might very well be suicide. However, she needed this staff. Holding it in her hands, she was able to feel the magical energy it carried. It would amplify her spells and make them _much_ more effective against the demon she was to face.

"Very well," she agreed after a moment's deliberation. "I agree to your duel, Valor."

"As you wish, mortal," Valor said with a nod of his head. "Know this, though: If I find you unworthy of this weapon, I will slay you. Our duel begins now. Fight with Valor!"

Varia was ready when he drew his weapon and came at her. She quickly side-stepped out of the way as she cast a shield upon herself, just in time to avoid receiving massive damage when he easily pivoted on his heel and stunned her. She recovered after a few seconds, and effortlessly threw a bolt of lightning at him. Valor retaliated with another heavy-handed blow which instantly shattered the Arcane Shield around her. Thinking fast, she hit him with a Winter's Grasp, which slowed him down long enough for her to run away several paces and re-shield herself. Flames were already coming from her hands by the time she turned back around to face him, and he fell to his knees before he was able to reach her, gasping for breath.

"Enough," he said, pulling himself to his feet. "Your strength is sufficient to the task laid before you. The staff is yours."

"Thank you," Varia replied, watching him place his sword at his back once more.

"I wish you luck, mortal," Valor told her, bowing respectfully. "May you find glory in all your achievements."

Varia turned around to ask Mouse if he felt she was now ready to face the demon that was waiting for her, but found he had vanshed. She figured he had probably gotten scared when her duel wth Valor started and shifted back into his rat form to go off somewhere and hide.

"Figures," she muttered under her breath, flexing her fingers around the staff in her hand. She decided it did her no good to stand around and wait for him to return, though, and so she retraced her route back to the area where Mouse had told her she would find the demon she was looking for. To her surprise, he was waiting there for her, still in his new bear form.

"I'm sorry for running off like that," he immediately apologized when she approached him. "He looked strong, and I got scared."

"He _was_ strong," Varia told him. "I really could have used your help back there."

"It was a duel," Mouse reminded her. "Those are generally done one-on-one, you know. Besides, you seem to have come out of it no worse for wear."

Varia let out an annoyed sigh and stepped around him, walking toward the center of the open area.

"So where is this demon?" she asked, gesturing to the empty space around her with her hands.

Suddenly, there came a low, rumbling sound from behind her. Varia turned around and gasped, taking a step backward when the ground split open and a being made of molten fire burst through. The creature – no doubt the demon she had been sent to face – spun around with its arms held aloft, laughing triumphantly. Once it touched down on the ground, it fixed its eyes of flame upon her and appraised her, making a satisfied sound.

"And so it comes to me at last. Soon I shall see the land of the living with _your_ eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul," the demon said to her in a deep voice tinged with anger. Varia surmised that it must be a rage demon, but that didn't make sense. From what she remembered of the hierarchy, rage demons were supposed to be the weakest. Mouse had said that the demon chasing her was not as powerful as Sloth, but she hadn't expected one as low on the scale as this.

"I really don't think you stand much chance," she told the demon, seeing Mouse join her at her side in his human form. "It's two against one, after all."

"Amusing," the demon growled, turning its attention to her companion. "Have you not told it if our little arrangement, Mouse?"

"I knew it!" Varia said, turning to Mouse. "I've had a bad feeling about you since we met. I never should have trusted you!"

"We don't _have_ an arrangement!" Mouse insisted to her, then looked to the demon. "Not any more."

"What?" the range demon asked, feigning hurt in its voice. "After all these meals we have shared together, you would simply turn your back on me? Mouse, you wound me."

"I'm not a mouse, now. I don't need to hide any more. Not from you, not from anyone! I'm done bargaining with the likes of you!"

"We shall see about that," the demon threatened, then attacked them both.

It called forth several wisps to help it in battle, and Mouse turned into a bear and ran off to take care of them while Varia faced the demon one-on-one. Knowing that beings of fire were particularly weak against frost spells, she hit it with a Winter's Grasp right away and shielded herself before the demon had a chance to break free of the ice that the spell had encased it in. By the time it did manage to break out of its frosty cocoon, she had already hit it with an Arcane Bolt and two Lightning spells. A final Arcane Bolt and the demon was down without having gotten in a single hit of its own.

Mouse ran over to her, shifting out of his bear form along the way, and grinned triumphantly at her.

"You did it! You actually did it!" he exclaimed. "I had hoped you would be able to defeat him, but part of me worried you would be no better than the others who had come before you."

"This was a little _too_ easy, if you ask me," Varia said thoughtfully, looking where the demon had just been standing. Her fight with Valor had been more challenging than this one. If it had really been her task to defeat that rage demon, she should already be back in her own body, but she was still in the Fade. Something wasn't right.

"So why did you help me?" she asked Mouse, turning her wary gaze in his direction. "It sounds like you were set to betray me from the start."

"I had lost my faith," Mouse explained, "in the Circle, in mages... in everything. You made me believe again. You're a _true_ mage, one of the few."

"What to you mean?"

"The others never stood a chance," Mouse said, shaking his head sadly. "The templars set them all up to fail. They tried to do the same with you, but you're stronger than any of them ever were. You showed me that there are still mages in the world capable of doing great things."

"And the others?" Varia asked him, her anger over his betrayal of countless other mages slowly boiling over. "Don't you care about what you did to them? How many were there? Do you even remember any of their names?"

"I... No," Mouse answered, dropping his gaze. "There were so many before, they're all just a blur in my memory. I _tried_ to help them, as I helped you. They wouldn't listen to me, though, and it led to their own downfall."

"You helped that _demon_! You assisted in bringing countless mages to their own deaths by allowing it to possess them!"

"I do regret my part in this," Mouse told her, his eyes meeting hers and pleading for forgiveness. "I had no choice, though. I was too weak. If I had gone against the demon, he would have devoured me."

"Anything to survive, huh?" Varia said, scoffing a bit. "Like an animal. Or worse."

"It's the Fade," Mouse explained. "It changes you. Am I to blame for what it has made me? Should I be punished merely for deciding that I wish to live? Deciding to exist or not exist is not a fair choice. I had lost all hope, before you came along. You have shown me other possibilities, though. If you want to help, that is. There may yet be a way for me to get out of this place."

"Why would I _help_ someone who was going to hand me right over to that thing?" Varia asked, her temper finally flaring. "As far as I'm concerned, you can stay here forever! Better yet, you should be in the Void, suffering as penance for your part in betraying all of your fellow mages by aligning yourself with a demon."

"All I need is a foothold outside," Mouse calmly explained, a small smile on his lips. "You just need to want to let me in."

"That's the _last_ thing I would want," Varia shot back, then paused, thinking back on what he had just said.

" _You just need to want to let me in."_

She let out a small gasp and took a step back from him. Now everything made sense. He knew so much about this place, and yet things hadn't added up from the start. His story hadn't made sense because that's all it was – a _story_.

"I'm beginning to think that demon wasn't my _real_ test, was it?" she asked Mouse, her senses completely alert. At the first sign of movement, she would attack him.

"What?" Mouse said, eyes wide in shock, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. "What are you... Of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential?"

He sighed and looked down for a moment, then chuckled darkly and looked back up at her with a grin. Varia's grip tightened on her staff, electricity already starting to build in her fingers.

"You _are_ a smart one," Mouse remarked, but made no move to attack her. "Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust... pride."

His voice changed as he spoke, taking on an increasingly deeper, more menacing tone. Suddenly, there was a flash of light. Varia was blinded for a second, and when she opened her eyes once more she found a pride demon towering over her.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, the confidence she had been gaining in her abilities since entering the Fade slowly draining away. Pride demons were the most powerful of all. She wasn't sure she stood a chance against one in single combat. Swallowing nervously, she took a defensive stance and prepared herself for combat.

"Keep your wits about you, mage," the demon warned her. "True tests _never_ end."

Varia felt sick to her stomach, and once more found herself surrounded by a bright, bluish-white glow. Her final thought before losing consciousness was a prayer of thanks to the Maker for getting her out of that mess.


	3. The Warden's Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia awakens in the morning, following her Harrowing, to find a Grey Warden has come to visit Kinloch Hold and her best friend is in the middle of a personal crisis.

 

 **Chapter Three**  
  
Jowan stared blankly at the page before him, trying his best to concentrate on the words of the tome but failing miserably. His stomach was churning itself into dozens of knots, just as it often did anymore during his waking hours, and for the first time in weeks the reason why had nothing to do with himself. He had gone to speak to Varia as soon as he woke up, knowing he had very little time left to escape the tower before his fate was sealed, only to discover her gone from her bed. One of the other female apprentices had informed him that First Enchanter Irving had roused her in the middle of the night and taken her away – no doubt to undergo her Harrowing.  
  
He had been jealous, at first. He knew she'd always been more talented than him and would likely pass her Harrowing before he did, but now she would have the assurance that she would never be able to be made tranquil. She would get to live the rest of her life to the fullest – at least as fully as a Circle Mage was allowed – while he was set to become nothing more than an empty shell lacking every last vestige of humanity. His jealousy soon turned to concern, however, when the girl he had spoken to told him that Varia had been gone most of the night. All of the apprentices knew that the longer you took for your Harrowing, the less likely it was that you would come back. He couldn't lose his faith in her, though. She _was_ talented and she _would_ pass the test. She had to. He needed her help too desperately for her to die at the hands of the templars right now.  
  
He heard the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening and looked up from the book he had been trying to read to take his mind off things, and the frown on his face deepened. Cullen carried Varia down the stone steps, her body limp in his arms. Jowan immediately stood from his chair and walked up to the templar, ready to throw a few choice words at him, but the other man spoke before he even got a chance to say anything.  
  
"She's fine, Jowan," Cullen assured him, having seen the accusation in the apprentice's eyes as he approached him. He knew that Jowan was Varia's best friend, and really hadn't been surprised at all that he had been in the reading room closest to the stairs which led to the upper levels of the tower, waiting to find out her fate.  
  
"Then why does she look like she's dead?" Jowan demanded, pointing to her chest, which was barely moving. Cullen sighed.  
  
"The Harrowing is extremely taxing on a mage's body," he explained. "How long she'll remain unconscious, I cannot say. Perhaps she will awaken in a few minutes, maybe it will take several days. Each mage is different. I _can_ tell you this, though: Hers was the quickest and cleanest Harrowing I've ever seen. Your friend is, indeed, very talented and brave."  
  
Jowan scowled at him. _Of course_ he would say things to compliment her like that. The two of them were constantly having romantic trysts in isolated alcoves and hidden corners. The only reason Jowan's hadn't gone to Irving to expose his perfect little pupil's indiscretions was because Varia was the only real friend he had and he didn't want to risk losing her by getting the two of them into trouble. Besides, he had Lily now. What the two of them did together was no longer of consequence to him, even if he _was_ still jealous of the templar for capturing the heart of the girl he'd been pining for.  
  
"Jowan."  
  
He heard the First Enchanter's voice calling his name and looked up to see the elder mage descending the stairs, looking older than he usually did. He had probably been worried sick about Varia's Harrowing, too, despite the way he was always telling her how confident he was in her abilities as a mage. Even the most promising of apprentices could fail if faced with too difficult a challenge, after all.  
  
"Yes, First Enchanter?" Jowan addressed him, making sure to keep his tone light even as he crossed his arms over his chest while stepping aside to allow Cullen to return Varia to her bed in the female apprentices' quarters. There was no actual proof that Irving had ordered Jowan's upcoming sentence, himself, but he sure as hell hadn't seemed to fight it very much – a fact that had caused Jowan to begin feeling _quite_ hostile toward his best friend's mentor.  
  
"When Varia awakens, will you please send her to see me? We have a guest who is due to arrive soon and I would like for her to meet him," Irving requested, his brown eyes not quite making contact with the younger man's gaze. Jowan's stance became less guarded against him when he suddenly realized the reason for this was because Irving genuinely felt guilty for what was about to be done to him. Jowan silently nodded in agreement and gave the First Enchanter a small bow when the older man thanked him and followed in the direction Cullen had gone, most likely heading to the tower's entryway in order to greet the guest he was expecting.  
  
With a heavy sigh, he made his way to the female apprentices' quarters to check on Varia. He doubted Cullen would be stupid enough to try anything during the middle of the day, when someone could easily walk in and catch them in the act, but he needed to make sure that was the case. He'd be damned if he let that bloody templar ruin everything she had worked so hard to achieve. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he strode purposefully through the library and toward the apprentices' quarters, not even bothering to speak to the others who asked him if Varia was okay – instead simply answering their questions with a short nod of his head. As he reached the doorway of the large sleeping area she shared with the other female apprentices, he saw Cullen exiting the room.  
  
"She began stirring when I placed her back into her bed," the templar informed him, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "She should wake up soon. You might want to be there when she does. The Harrowing isn't a very pleasant experience, from what I understand, and she's probably going to need a friend to talk to."  
  
"So why aren't _you_ staying with her?" Jowan asked him. While not everyone was privy to the exact depth of their relationship, most of the mages in the tower at least knew that Cullen had become a sort of protector to Varia shortly after he first arrived to replace a templar who had been sent to serve in Kirkwall. Very few people knew _why_ that was the case, but Jowan did. He knew _far_ too well. It still sickened him to think about what had very nearly happened to her.  
  
"I have to go on my morning rounds," Cullen replied, and Jowan didn't miss the note of disappointment in his voice. "I know you'll take good care of her, though. Maker be with you."  
  
"Right," Jowan muttered as the other man bowed to him slightly before heading off to patrol the upper floors, no doubt to watch the mages who worked and studied there like a hawk just waiting to pounce upon its prey – the prey, in this case, being any mage who looked as though they might be stepping out of line even the _tiniest_ bit.  
  
Pushing aside his resentment toward the templar, he stepped through the doorway of the large room where the female apprentices slept and made his way over to Varia's bed. Cullen had said she would be awake soon, and – to him – it could never be soon enough.  
  


* * *

  
  
Varia felt like she was going to be ill. The room was spinning, and she hadn't even opened her eyes, yet. She knew she was back in her own body and no longer in the Fade, though. She could no longer feel the thick magic in the air around her as she had during her Harrowing, and she could smell the distinct scent of elfroot with the faintest hint of sage underneath. There was only one person she knew who smelled like that.  
  
"Are you all right?" she heard Jowan ask her, and she felt the bed under her shifting as he sat down beside her. "Say something, please."  
  
"Stop shaking the bed before I throw up on you," Varia groaned, opening a single grey eye and looking up at him.  
  
"Sorry," he apologized, carefully getting back up while she pulled herself into a sitting position on the bed. "I take it Wendell _wasn't_ exaggerating every time he got sick, then?"  
  
"No, I still think he was exaggerating," she replied, sitting quietly for a moment before slowly standing from the bed. "It's just... Well... I can't exactly tell you, but allow me to say that it's rather appropriate that they call it the Harrowing."  
  
"You really can't tell me anything?" Jowan asked, sounding disappointed. "Not even just a little, tiny bit?"  
  
"You _know_ I can't, Jowan," she reminded him, sighing a bit and reaching up to rub the kinks out of her neck. She had probably been laying on that stone floor in the Harrowing Chamber for several hours, and now her body was protesting its mistreatment the only way it could.  
  
"So much for friendship," Jowan grumbled, then looked at her, his dark blue eyes turning sad for a moment. "I'm glad you're alright, though. When I heard the other apprentices talking this morning, saying you'd been gone most of the night, I got worried."  
  
"You worry too much, you know," Varia scolded him, reaching out to gently squeeze his upper arm. "About everything."  
  
Jowan scoffed and turned away from her, crossing his arms over his chest as his face scrunched up in mild disgust.  
  
"That's easy for you to say," he told her, sounding bitter. "You've passed your Harrowing and now you get to go live upstairs in the fancy mages' quarters. I'm still stuck down here, and I don't know _when_ they'll take me for my Harrowing – or even _if_ they'll take me for it."  
  
"Relax, Jowan," she told him in a soothing voice, stepping closer to him and rubbing his back in a comforting manner. "I'm sure they'll come to get you any day, now."  
  
"For my Harrowing, or to make me tranquil?" he asked, turning his head slightly to look at her.  
  
"No one is going to make you tranquil, Jowan," Varia assured him with a smile.  
  
"You don't know that," he said quietly, then let out a heavy sigh and turned fully toward her. "I've been here longer than you have, remember? I've been practicing magic for a full _three_ years longer than you. No matter how much I try, I never get any better at it. I'm at my wit's end."  
  
"Listen, just because I'm going to be sleeping upstairs from now on doesn't mean I plan to stop helping you," she informed him. "I promise I will continue to give you lessons _every_ day, until they finally decide to take you for your Harrowing."  
  
"I appreciate it," Jowan said, though he didn't exactly _sound_ appreciative. He still sounded sad, and Varia was about to ask him what else was bothering him when he continued to speak.  
  
"I was supposed to inform you when you woke up that the First Enchanter wishes to see you, right away."  
  
"What for?" Varia wondered. It seemed odd that her mentor would ask to see her the very moment she woke up after having just gone through the Harrowing. Surely, he must know how taxing it had been on her body and mind. Perhaps he simply wanted to congratulate her on succeeding, but he had been so confident that she wouldn't fail that there was really no need for such a sentiment – which meant it must be something else, and that 'something else' must be important.  
  
"He said he was expecting a visitor, and that he wanted you to meet him," Jowan informed her. "That's all I know. You're to go see Irving in his study upstairs. You had better not keep him waiting."  
  
"Right," Varia agreed with a slight nod of her head. "We can speak more later, if you like."  
  
"I'll come find you in a bit," Jowan told her, then left the room to go back to his studies in the library.  
  
Varia went to the small washroom off the sleeping area and checked her reflection in a looking glass above one of the small vanity tables where the female apprentices were permitted to keep their cosmetic items. Irving wanted her to meet a guest of his, and any guest of the First Enchanter was bound to be someone important. Therefore, she thought it would be appropriate if she looked her best.  
  
Her hair was a mess, and so she untied the yellow ribbon she used to hold it up and allowed the golden locks to tumble down around her shoulders. She had just sat down and picked up a brush to run through her hair and smooth it back out when one of the female apprentices – a girl named Miranda who had become a bit of a friend of hers – peeked around the corner and grinned at her.  
  
"I heard that Cullen's in love with you!" she said in a sing-song voice.  
  
Varia's hand stopped mid-stroke as she was brushing her hair, and she willed herself not to blush as she looked up at the ginger-haired girl, carefully keeping her expression as neutral as possible.  
  
"Where did you hear something like that?" she asked, wondering just how many people had already heard this rumor.  
  
"Well, I didn't hear those _exact_ words, per se," Miranda said, stepping the rest of the way into the room and leaning against the wall next to the vanity where Varia was sitting. "I _did_ , however, overhear him talking to Jowan as he was carrying you back to your room earlier."  
  
"He carried me back down here?" Varia asked, and this time she couldn't help the blush that colored her cheeks. Miranda giggled at the sight.  
  
"He did," she confirmed, kneeling down next to her and lowering her voice. "He had you cradled in his arms like you were his bride. Honestly, I'm quite jealous."  
  
"It's not like you would have been able to _enjoy_ it, if you had been in my position," Varia told her. "I was unconscious, after all."  
  
"True," Miranda conceded with a sigh. "But still... Just the thought of having him hold me close to him in those strong arms of his... Maker, it would be _so_ wonderful."  
  
Varia smiled a bit and returned to brushing her hair. Miranda wasn't the only other female apprentice who had developed a crush on the young templar. They all knew that he and Varia had a close friendship, as well, and they often bugged her for information about him. She always gave vague answers to their questions, preferring to let them use their imaginations to fuel their fantasies about him however they pleased. However, it seemed that his recent actions were about to nudge their fantasies about him - and, more importantly, about the two of them - a bit _too_ close to the truth of things.  
  
"So, what did he say about me?" she asked nonchalantly as she finished brushing her hair and began pulling it up into her usual hairstyle.  
  
"Oh, just that your Harrowing was the quickest he'd ever seen and that you're talented and brave and blah blah blah," Miranda told her, waving it off with her hand. "It wasn't so much _what_ he said as _how_ he said it, though."  
  
"What do you mean?" Varia asked, holding her hair in place with one hand and picking up the long, satin ribbon to tie it back into her hair.  
  
"It didn't really sound like he was praising you," Miranda explained. "It sounded more like he was _enraptured_ by you."  
  
Her hair fixed, Varia sighed and turned to her friend, then grasped both of her hands in her own.  
  
"Miranda, you're a dear friend," she said with a small laugh. "However, I think you've let these fantasies of yours go a bit too much to your head. Cullen and I are _friends_ , nothing more. He helped me out once when I was in trouble, and now he feels like he needs to look after me – sort of like a big brother. That's all it is."  
  
"Can't I at least _pretend_ he's in love with you?" Miranda whined. "It gets so boring here in the tower, I need _something_ juicy to daydream about."  
  
"I'd rather you not," Varia replied, shaking her head.  
  
"Spoilsport," Miranda said, pouting, and stood up from her spot next to Varia's stool.  
  
"Here's an idea," Varia suggested as she stood and began walking out of the female apprentices' quarters with the other mage. "Why don't you pretend that Cullen is in love with _you_? I'm sure that would make for _much_ more titillating daydreams, yes?"  
  
"You do have a point, there," Miranda agreed, grinning. "By the way, Varia – congratulations on your successful Harrowing."  
  
"Thank you," Varia replied, and the two of them parted ways. Miranda went to instruct some of the young initiates on the history and purpose of magic, while Varia made her way to the stairs leading to the second floor, where Irving's study was located.  
  
She couldn't help noticing, as she passed through each of the reading areas along the way, that Jowan was nowhere to be found.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Many have _already_ gone to Ostagar – Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We have committed _enough_ of our own to this war effort!"  
  
" _Your own_? Since when have _you_ felt such kinship with mages, Greagoir? Or are you simply afraid to let us out from under Chantry supervision, where we can actually _use_ our Maker-given powers?"  
  
Varia's pace slowed considerably as she approached the open door of the First Enchanter's study. Apparently, Irving and Greagoir were having one of their arguments – again. But instead of it being about the usual things – like how to best punish an apprentice who talked back to a templar or what to do with a certain mage who kept escaping the tower over and over again – they were talking about some sort of war. Varia knew she should probably just leave and let them finish their conversation, but Jowan had said her mentor wanted to see her immediately after she woke up. Taking a breath and hoping that Greagoir wouldn't throw a fit at her for interrupting, she stepped forward and quietly walked into the room.  
  
"How _dare_ you suggest--" Greagoir shouted in response to Irving's veiled inference that the Knight-Commander knowingly and purposely repressed the mages of the Ferelden Circle.  
  
"Gentlemen, please!" stated a man Varia had never seen before, who had positioned himself between the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. He had dark features and wore unusual armor covered in leather straps. Even _more_ unusual, however, were the sword and dagger strapped to his back. The weapons themselves were quite ordinary, but the fact that he was allowed to possess them within the tower was odd. Normally, visitors were asked to relinquish their weapons to the templars before being allowed past the entry hall.  
  
"Irving, someone is here to see you," the man informed the First Enchanter in his deep voice.  
  
"You sent for me?" Varia asked, cautiously stepping farther into the room.  
  
"If it isn't our new sister in the Circle," Irving greeted her, holding his arms out in a welcoming gesture. "Come, child. There is someone I wish for you to meet."  
  
"This is...?" the dark-haired man asked, looking her over with a critical gaze.  
  
"Yes, this is she," Irving stated proudly.  
  
"Well, Irving, you're obviously busy," Greagoir said calmly, though Varia could still feel the tension in the air between the two older men. "We will continue our discussion later."  
  
"You can count on it," Irving told Greagoir as he left the study, then let out a sigh and turned back to his former apprentice. "Now, then... Where was I? Oh, yes! Duncan, this is my student, Varia. Varia, this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."  
  
Varia's eyes went wide when Irving made the introductions. A Grey Warden? Here? She wasn't even aware that they _existed_ any more. Surely, the fact that one had come to visit the Circle of Magi meant that something dire was going on outside the tower walls.  
  
"Pleased to meet you," she greeted Duncan, suddenly remembering her manners.  
  
"There is a war brewing to the south," Irving explained to her. "No doubt you overheard Greagoir and I arguing about it when you first arrived. Duncan is here to recruit mages to join the King's army at Ostagar."  
  
"May I ask why?" Varia wondered. "Greagoir said we've already sent quite a few mages."  
  
"Mages are uniquely equipped to battle darkspawn," Duncan explained.  
  
"Darkspawn?" Varia echoed, her voice rising slightly in pitch and her face going pale. "Then that means..."  
  
"I'm afraid so," Duncan replied, knowing what she was thinking. "There is a large army of darkspawn that has been moving through the Korcari Wilds. I fear that it may be a sign that we are about to bear witness to another Blight."  
  
"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn," Irving chided him. "This is supposed to be a _happy_ day for her."  
  
"Yes, I almost forgot," Duncan said, turning back to Varia. "Congratulations on passing your Harrowing. Irving tells me you set a record for the shortest time taken to complete the ritual. That is quite commendable. However, these are troubled times and I fear there is no room for levity in this situation."  
  
"On the contrary, we should _embrace_ moments of levity," Irving countered, " _especially_ in troubled times."  
  
Duncan did not argue. He simply nodded respectfully to the First Enchanter. Irving then returned his attention to Varia, smiling proudly at her.  
  
"You have passed your Harrowing. Your phylactery has been sent to Denerim. You are now officially a mage within the Circle of Magi. See? I _knew_ you wouldn't fail."  
  
"Thank you, First Enchanter," Varia said, blushing a little.  
  
"Come, child," Irving instructed, making his way over to his desk. "I have your new robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the insignia of the Circle. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."  
  
"Thank you, First Enchanter," Varia said once again, accepting the items from him and bowing to him in respect. Her eye caught something sitting on his desk, though, and she looked up at him with a puzzled expression on her face.  
  
"First Enchanter? Why do you have a pile of books on Blood Magic sitting on your desk?" she asked as she slid her new ring onto her finger.  
  
"Ah," Irving said, picking up the books and carrying them over to a bookcase against the back wall of the room, where he deposited them on an empty shelf. "It has been brought to my attention that someone may have been dabbling in the forbidden arts. I removed these books from the library on Uldred's recommendation in order to prevent others from falling prey to the same temptation."  
  
"Who's practicing Blood Magic?" Varia asked, recalling a conversation she had recently overheard between two of the male apprentices on the subject.  
  
"Never you mind, child," Irving gently admonished her. "They will be dealt with, soon enough. Now, would you kindly see Duncan to the guest quarters? I have a matter I must attend to."  
  
"Certainly," Varia agreed, bowing once more to the First Enchanter before walking over to Duncan.  
  
"Shall I show you to your room, Ser Duncan?" she asked him.  
  
"Please, just Duncan will be fine," he told her with a chuckle.  
  
"Very well, Duncan. This way, please," she instructed, taking a moment to secure her staff at her back with the spell Irving had taught her before leading him out of the First Enchanter's study.  
  
The two of them walked in silence down the hallway toward the guest quarters. Varia chewed her lip nervously and fussed with her new robes in her hands, wondering if she dare ask the question that was on her mind. She had finally decided that she would be better off keeping it to herself when Duncan suddenly stopped walking.  
  
"It seems you have something on your mind," he commented when she turned to look at him.  
  
"I was just curious about something," she told him, then shook her head. "Really, it's nothing important. Just a stupid question."  
  
"Are you sure?" Duncan asked. "I will be happy to answer any questions you may have, if I am able to provide an answer."  
  
"Well," Varia began, then hesitated a moment before continuing. "I have a feeling I know why Greagoir and Irving were arguing when I arrived. They fight about the same things all the time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing Greagoir doesn't want to let too many mages get a taste of the freedom we're denied by being made to live here at the tower."  
  
"You would be right in that assumption, I'm afraid," Duncan told her, sighing a bit. "Greagoir serves the Chantry, and I daresay that they merely _tolerate_ magic. It is their fear that if mages are allowed to use their full power, they will insist on the freedom they have been denied for so long."  
  
"And what is _your_ opinion on magic, if I may ask?"  
  
"Magic is an _invaluable_ tool," Duncan said, lowering his voice to prevent any nearby templars from hearing him and having him thrown out. "It is especially crucial for helping to fight the darkspawn. In fact, when it comes to those mages who have been allowed to join the King's army, I am _counting_ on them to unleash their full power upon the darkspawn – and that, in all honesty, should be the main concern of the Chantry: whether or not we are able to defeat the horde and prevent another Blight."  
  
"I thought you said before that the Blight was imminent?" Varia asked, recalling his previous comment on the subject.  
  
" _I_ believe it is," Duncan clarified for her. "However, the King believes that if we are able to defeat the darkspawn horde before it spreads from the Wilds, we will be able to head off the Blight and stop it before it even gets started. Perhaps he is right. I cannot say. All I know is that if this _is_ truly a Blight, we will need every able-bodied soldier we can find to fight it – including mages."  
  
Varia nearly pointed out to him that mages are _hardly_ 'soldiers,' but then she recalled her duel with Valor in the Fade. She hadn't been restricted in the use of her powers, and had defeated him easily. Surely, mages who were no longer under the scrutiny of templars could unleash a comparable amount of power upon the darkspawn and defeat them, as well.  
  
"Come, let us be on our way," Duncan stated, and the two of them continued toward the other end of the curved hallway to where the guest quarters were.  
  
"Here we are," Varia announced once they had reached the room that had been prepared for Duncan. "If you require anything else, please do not hesitate to let someone know. I hope you enjoy your stay here at the tower."  
  
"Thank you," Duncan told her, bowing graciously before retiring to his room to rest.  
  
Varia sighed and turned around, then nearly jumped out of her skin when she found Jowan had been standing right behind her.  
  
"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she scolded him, slapping his arm.  
  
"Sorry, but I _really_ need to talk to you," he told her, sounding panicked. "Are you done with Irving?"  
  
"For now, I suppose," she replied.  
  
"Good," Jowan whispered. "Remember earlier, when I was worried about not having taken my Harrowing yet? Well... I know why I haven't."  
  
"Why are you whispering?" she asked him.  
  
"Just... please, Varia. Come with me. I need your help."  
  
Varia's brow furrowed as she took in his expression. She hadn't noticed it earlier because her mind had still been a bit hazy from her Harrowing, but Jowan looked terrible. His hair was a mess, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He likely hadn't slept much – if at all – the previous night. Something was bothering him. Something _very_ bad, considering how desperate he had sounded when he pleaded with her to help him. She nodded quietly for a bit before speaking.  
  
"Alright, Jowan," she told him. "You know I'll help you – you're my best friend, after all."  
  
"Good," Jowan said, letting out a relieved sigh. "Follow me. It's not safe to discuss this out in the open."  
  
Varia hesitated for a moment, then began to follow him back the way she had just come. He was acting rather suspiciously, which bothered her. She would hear him out, though, because he _was_ her best friend and had been there for her whenever she needed him for the past ten years. The very least she could do was return the favor by hearing him out about his problems.


	4. Covert Plans and Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia discovers Jowan has been having a secret affair and is suspected of being a blood mage, and shares a brief moment with her own forbidden love - the templar, Cullen.

 

****

**Chapter Four**  
  
Varia felt an acute uneasiness as she followed Jowan down the hallway. He was acting very strange, and somehow she had a feeling that this situation he was in was something _far_ more serious than just being worried about the fact that he hadn't been called yet to take his Harrowing. The two of them passed a couple of templars along the way and she noticed him visibly stiffen when they walked by, despite the fact they were two of the nicer ones and even uttered a friendly greeting upon their approach. Varia returned the sentiment to the two men – Ungar and Moran, she remembered Cullen saying their names were – and gave them an apologetic smile for her friend's cold behavior.  
  
"Before we go in," Jowan stated as he stopped just outside of the Circle's small chapel, turning to her and wringing his hands nervously in front of him, "I just want you to promise me you won't repeat a single word of what you are about to hear."  
  
"Jowan, _what_ is going on?" Varia asked him, reaching out to take one of his hands in her own in an attempt to calm its shaking.  
  
"I just... Promise me," he requested once more, his fingers grasping at hers and squeezing them almost desperately. "I need help and you're the only person I can turn to, but I cannot tell you what's troubling me unless I have your word that you will breathe _none_ of this to anyone else within these tower walls."  
  
"You have my word," Varia swore, squeezing his hand back. "You know you can trust me with anything."  
  
"Good," Jowan said with a relieved sigh. He then released her hand and waved her along, continuing into the room past her and over to the corner farthest away from the door, where one of the Chantry sisters who looked over the chapel was praying.  
  
"I've brought her," he said to the young woman, who had dark auburn hair partially pulled back into a bun. The woman stood and turned to them, smiling at Varia and holding out a hand to Jowan, who took it in his own and joined her at her side.  
  
"Jowan... What's going on, here?" Varia asked once more, her gaze traveling back and forth between them. The young woman blushed, casting her hazel eyes downward for a moment before looking to Jowan to explain the situation.  
  
"A few months ago, I told you that I met a girl," Jowan informed her, then gestured to the girl at his side with his free hand. "This is Lily."  
  
"An initiate?" Varia blurted out, then looked around to make sure she hadn't been overheard before lowering her voice and continuing. "Jowan, that's forbidden!"  
  
"So you can see why we wish to keep it a secret," Lily said, her grip tightening on Jowan's hand at her side.  
  
"Lily's been given to the Chantry, and isn't allowed to have... _relations_ with men," Jowan further explained. The two of them shared a look and Lily's cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. Varia could only gape at the two of them. How had they managed to keep something like _that_ a secret from everyone? She hadn't even had the slightest idea that her best friend had been sneaking around with a Chantry girl, let alone bedding one. Then again, her mind had been preoccupied for over a year with how to keep her own indiscretions from being discovered by everyone else in the tower.  
  
"I'm not going to tell anyone, Jowan. Your secret is safe with me," Varia repeated in a mere whisper, her voice carrying to them despite how quietly she was speaking. She owed him as much for not ever telling him of her own forbidden relationship.  
  
"Thank you," Lily replied, smiling gratefully at her.  
  
"And that's why I'm so troubled," Jowan continued to explain the situation. "Well, part of it. See, I found out why I haven't been taken for my Harrowing yet: they're going to make me tranquil!"  
  
"What?" Varia asked, her grey eyes blinking in surprise and her grip tightening on the new robes in her arms to keep her hands from trembling. Surely that couldn't possibly be true. Jowan might not be the most skilled apprentice in Ferelden, but he certainly had potential and he always tried his best. He didn't pose any threat to others, either, so there was no actual justification for him to be robbed of his very dreams and emotions.  
  
"It's true," Lily confirmed. "I saw the paperwork on Greagoir's desk yesterday."  
  
"No," Varia denied the idea, shaking her head. "That's impossible. Surely, it's all just his idea. Irving would _never_ agree to it."  
  
"But he _did_ agree to it," Lily corrected her. "The forms bore his seal upon them. He approved the Rite of Tranquility to be performed on Jowan."  
  
"They're going to take away all that I am, Varia!" Jowan said, his voice strained with emotion. "My hopes, my dreams, my love for Lily, all gone!"  
  
Varia just kept shaking her head, in silent shock. The First Enchanter was a good man. He did everything in his power to protect the mages within the tower, even those who had not yet undergone their Harrowing. The last person who had been made tranquil had been done so nearly eight years ago – and that had been done at the apprentice's own request, because he hated himself for his magic due to his own family and friends casting him away as some abomination of the Maker's creation. Not even Irving's most eloquent speech about the goodness of magic could turn him around. Now he worked with Owain in the storage facility. She couldn't imagine how horrible it would be to see Jowan there, every day, not even remembering the years of friendship they had shared or the love he had for the woman at his side.  
  
"Why would they do this?" she wondered aloud. "Irving would never just agree to make you tranquil simply because Greagoir said so."  
  
"There's a rumor going around about me," Jowan told her. "People are saying I'm a blood mage."  
  
Varia looked at him, remembering what Irving had said about someone in the tower practicing blood magic. It wasn't possible, though. Jowan _couldn't_ be the one he had been speaking of. He knew the dangers of consorting with demons and the punishment should he be discovered doing it. Surely he wasn't stupid enough to risk his very life. Then again, he had been growing increasingly desperate to prove himself in recent months so he could finally take his Harrowing. But, no... She would have known if her best friend was a blood mage. She might have missed that he was sneaking around with an initiate of the Chantry, but blood magic was _much_ harder to hide. Still, she had to hear it from him.  
  
" _Are_ you a blood mage?" she asked, holding his gaze steadily with her own.  
  
"Of course not!" Jowan answered without missing a beat. "Look, I've been sneaking around at night to meet Lily, and someone must have seen me and thought I was doing something forbidden. Which, granted, I _was_ – but it _wasn't_ blood magic, I swear!"  
  
"I believe you," Varia told him, nodding.  
  
"Thank you," Jowan said, breathing a sigh of relief, "but it's still not safe for me here anymore. I need to get away from the tower."  
  
"That's where you come in," Lily added. "We need your help to destroy Jowan's phylactery so that we can escape and make a life together, somewhere far away from here."  
  
Varia's large grey eyes went even wider when she heard Lily lay out what they were planning to do. As if the two of them being together wasn't already dangerous enough, they wanted to run away from the tower, as well. And, apparently, they wanted her to help them do it.  
  
"Is that even possible?" she asked, weighing the dangers of what they were asking her to help them accomplish in her mind. Unlike Jowan, she had already taken her Harrowing and, therefore, couldn't be made tranquil by Chantry law. So if they were to be caught, the only possible outcomes for her would be to be placed in solitary confinement for a _very_ long time – which she knew from everything Anders had said about it wasn't any fun _at all_ – or death. They were probably banking on her having extra immunity to harsh punishments due to being the First Enchanter's apprentice, but Varia doubted even that could help improve her standing when it came to defending herself after committing such a _serious_ crime against the Chantry's laws regarding mages in the Circle.  
  
"It's absolutely possible," Lily assured her. "And we have devised a plan that we can easily carry out with your help, now that you are a fully-fledged mage within the Circle."  
  
"You're asking me to put a lot on the line, here," she told Lily before turning her eyes toward Jowan once more. "You know what will happen to me if we're caught, right?"  
  
"I know," Jowan said quietly, unable to meet her eyes. "And I'm sorry I have to ask so much of you, but you're the only person I can trust and I need you right now."  
  
Varia sighed, glancing at Lily once more before looking back to her best friend. For the past decade, they had been together at the tower. He had been the only apprentice who didn't make fun of her and call her names when Irving finally placed her with the rest of them two weeks after she first arrived at the tower. He had protected her from the bullies, stood up for her, comforted her when she used to hide in corners and cry because of the children being mean to her because she was the only elf. He had sat with her on many sleepless nights after two of the templars tried to assault her, and though he had protested at first about her growing friendship with Cullen following the incident he had never once come right out and told her not to be friends with her personal savior. She had even been in love with him, once – though it was probably more of a crush than actual love – but he hadn't noticed the hints she had been dropping about her feelings for him. Or had he?  
  
"Jowan, why didn't we ever..." she asked before she could stop herself, letting the question hang between them, knowing he could easily fill in the blanks on his own. His dark blue eyes immediately snapped up from the floor and met hers, his mouth opening and closing slightly though no sound was coming forth from his lips.  
  
"Yes, why didn't you, Jowan?" Lily asked in a teasing voice, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking at him. "You're always talking about her."  
  
Jowan looked to his lover, still gaping in shock, then slowly turned back to Varia and shook his head in apparent disbelief at what he was hearing before answering.  
  
"It never crossed my mind. You're like a _sister_ to me!" he told her, then paused for a moment before adding, "You don't... like _me_ as something more than a friend, do you?"  
  
"Well, maybe," Varia admitted, looking away from him shyly and blushing. "A little."  
  
"I see," he said after a short pause to let her admission sink in fully. "Why bring it up now, especially with... you know, things. And Lily. I... love her, and... You know, I'm just going to drop this."  
  
Varia smiled, slightly amused at how uncomfortable Jowan suddenly looked, then turned back to Lily.  
  
"Tell me what you need me to do," she said to the other woman, who blinked at her in surprise.  
  
"You mean, you'll help us?" she asked, her voice full of surprise. Varia guessed she hadn't been very hopeful that a newly-minted mage would be so willing to put everything on the line for the sake of a mere apprentice and an initiate of the Chantry.  
  
"Of course, I'll help," Varia told her with a smile. "I'll miss Jowan, of course, but I want him to be happy and I _certainly_ don't want to have to see him every day as a tranquil mage, knowing that I could have helped prevent it from happening."  
  
"Oh, thank you!" Lily exclaimed. "The Maker has surely blessed us both by sending you to help."  
  
"So, what is it you have planned?" Varia asked once more, getting a bit antsy. They were still alone in the chapel, but at any moment someone else could walk in on the three of them and discover their conspiracy.  
  
"I can easily get us into the repository," Lily told her. "However, there is a problem. You see, the phylacteries lie behind a door sealed by two locks. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander each hold one key. It is merely a door, though. What is a door to a mage, especially one with your power?"  
  
"I see you weren't joking about Jowan talking about me," Varia remarked with a small smile, looking over at Jowan. Her smile fell when she saw a rather distraught look on his face. She almost asked him what was wrong, but figured he was just nervous about whether or not their plan would succeed. She forced her smile back into place and returned her attention to Lily, who continued explaining their plan to her.  
  
"As you have probably already surmised, there is no possible way for us to get our hands on both keys. Jowan said he once saw a rod of fire melt through a lock, so we were hoping you might be able to go to the stockroom and retrieve one. Jowan can't do it because he is still an apprentice, and I obviously wouldn't have reason to be asking for such an item."  
  
"Why go to all of this trouble at all, though?" Varia asked. "We should just go to the First Enchanter and explain the situation to him. Once he sees that Jowan really isn't a blood mage, he's sure to call off the Rite of Tranquility."  
  
"If only it were that simple," Lily answered with a faint smile. "The templars, as you no doubt know, are in charge of all the mages here. They might order the Rite be performed on him just as easily for seducing an initiate the the Chantry as they have for their suspicions of him being a blood mage. The First Enchanter needs to keep the peace between the mages and the templars. Bringing this to his attention would do nothing but invite more trouble."  
  
Varia sighed and nodded her head, closing her eyes briefly for a moment to collect her thoughts. This was going to be dangerous, and Lily was right – Irving had to keep the peace between the Chantry and the Circle. If she was caught helping the two of them, he would have no choice but to agree with whatever punishment Greagoir decided to hand down to her. Even if... No. That would surely kill him to do, and he was like a father to her. She could never cause him that sort of pain.  
  
There was only one option: to _not_ get caught.  
  
"I'll do it," she finally said, reaching out to take one of Lily's hands in her own and give it a reassuring squeeze. "I will do everything in my power to help you two find happiness together, but it might not be a very quick retrieval. After all, I have to make sure I do this in a way that will prevent me from drawing any suspicion upon myself. You understand, yes?"  
  
"Of course," Lily agreed. "Neither of us want you to end up in prison – or worse – simply for trying to help us. Take whatever steps are necessary to make sure your tracks are covered, but please do so in as timely a manner as possible. The templars could come for Jowan as soon as this evening."  
  
"I'll do my best," Varia promised. "You two should stay here, for now. Try to keep out of sight in case someone else comes by to pray, so you won't have to explain what you're doing here together."  
  
"Oh, don't worry," Lily assured her with a sly grin. "Jowan and I have gotten quite good at lying low in recent months."  
  
Varia couldn't help but return the other woman's smile, thinking how she probably would have had a very similar response to that request if their roles had been reversed. She bade both of them goodbye, hesitating for a moment when only Lily replied, and discretely left the chapel. She began to walk toward the stockroom, then realized she was still holding the robes Irving had given her in her arms. Sighing to herself, she turned around and followed the circular hallway in the opposite direction, toward the mages' quarters where she would now be staying so that she could deposit her new belongings with the rest of her things that had been brought upstairs for her.  
  
She took each step slowly, fussing with the hem on the skirt of the garment and wondering if they had thought to have it shortened and taken in to better fit her smaller elven frame. Really, though, she was trying to think of anything but how much of a hypocrite she had just been. The first thing that had come out of her mouth when Jowan revealed his relationship with Lily had been to point out how forbidden it was, when she herself was romantically involved with a templar. Truth be told, however, she couldn't really say which of them was committing the bigger sin. Yes, the templars were meant to watch over the mages and keep them in line without question, but Lily was an initiate in the Chantry. Girls like her were meant to be pure and untouched, and they took vows of chastity – vows which Jowan more or less freely admitted he and Lily had already broken. At least she and Cullen had yet to take their relationship _that_ far. Not that neither of them wanted to... the right situation to do so simply had yet to present itself for them.  
  
The sound of metal gently clanking against the hard stone floor of the hallway caught her attention and Varia looked up to see her beloved standing just outside the door of the room she would now be occupying. She momentarily stopped in her tracks and simply watched him as he continued to fidget nervously, staring down at his gauntlet-covered hands, then called out to him. Cullen looked in her direction at the sound of her voice, his green eyes fixing upon her face, and he smiled shyly as a blush crept across his cheeks.  
  
"Cullen? What are you doing here?" she asked as she approached him, keeping her tone light and conversational.  
  
"I... I wanted to make sure you were all right," Cullen told her. "Th-They picked _me_ as the templar to strike the killing blow if... if you became an abomination."  
  
Varia could hear the sorrow in his voice when he told her what task had been assigned to him the previous night, and she couldn't help but reach out to him and place her hand gently upon his armored shoulder.  
  
"Would you really have struck me down?" she asked him, her thumb just barely grazing against the side of his neck before she let her hand glide down the rest of his arm.  
  
"I would have had no choice," Cullen said, his voice full of conflicting emotions. His gaze fell briefly upon her lips before he raised his eyes once more to meet hers. "I serve the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded."  
  
"Then I suppose it's a good thing that I am so talented and brave, isn't it?" she asked him, her lips turning up in a smirk as she quoted the things Miranda had overheard him saying about her.  
  
"Did Jowan tell you I said that?" he asked her in reply, the color of his cheeks darkening once more.  
  
"No, he didn't. Apparently, you made enough of a show carrying me back to my bed the way you did to get the gossips talking, though."  
  
"I... I'm sorry," he apologized, making sure to keep his voice low so no one would overhear what they were discussing. "I just needed to hold you, and... and I volunteered to take you back to your dormitory without thinking."  
  
"It's fine, love," she told him, her voice just as quiet as his. "You don't happen to have a moment to spare right now, do you?"  
  
"I really should be getting back to my duties," Cullen insisted, casting a look down the hallway in the direction she had just come from. "As I said, I simply wanted to check on you and see how you were faring."  
  
"Please?" Varia requested, leaning a bit closer to whisper into his ear. "I promise to only take a moment of your time, Ser Knight."  
  
She took a step back and smiled at him, then walked casually into her new quarters. Cullen hesitated a moment behind her, looking about carefully to make sure no one was around to see him, then followed her into the room. He watched her as she set down the robes she had been carrying on top of her trunk and removed her staff from her back to lean it against the wall, and then she turned to him and all sense of propriety went out the window.  
  
They moved toward each other at the same time, her arms wrapping around his neck even as his encircled her small waist, their mouths finding one another with a practiced ease. It wasn't the sort of gentle kissing they usually engaged in with one another during their stolen moments behind large bookcases and in dark alcoves, but a passionate warring of lips and teeth and tongues as they each relished the taste of one another they had both feared they would never experience again. Varia's hands moved up along the back of his neck, her fingers dancing delicious torment down his spine as they gently caressed his skin before threading into his dark blonde curls, and Cullen responded in kind by tracing the outline of her body with his hands. She felt his hands grip her tighter, pulling her to him possessively, and let out a small moan which came out more like a whimper of frustration. The sexual tension had been building between them for months, and she had already passed her breaking point long ago. They had needed to be careful, before, but now that her new living quarters afforded them more privacy she hoped that perhaps they would soon finally be able to be rid of the thick plate armor which had always helped keep them in check so as not to allow their passions for one another to be taken too far.  
  
Cullen was the first to pull away from the kiss, though his lips remained close to her own, and their breaths mingled as they each fought to regain air in their lungs and control over their bodies' urges. He continued to lay soft kisses upon her full, swollen lips, his eyes closed and his grip tightening on her waist as though he was afraid she was nothing more than a dream and if he woke up she would be gone.  
  
"I'm so glad you didn't fail your Harrowing," he told her once he had finally caught his breath, his voice deep and husky with lust, though she could imagine the painful images he was conjuring up in his mind at that very moment. "It would have killed me if I had to..."  
  
His voice broke, unable to form the rest of the words, and Varia kissed him softly as a small laugh escaped her throat despite the seriousness of his statement.  
  
"Are you saying you have no faith in my abilities?" she asked him, aware that he – like everyone else in the Circle – knew full well that she was one of the most powerful mages currently living within the tower.  
  
"I was still scared," Cullen admitted, opening his eyes but unable to look at her face. "It's a dangerous test. Even if you came out of it alive... Some mages are just never the same after what they see in there. I'm glad you're still my Varia."  
  
He reached up to caress her cheek with one of his hands, finally looking into her grey eyes once more, and became transfixed by the way the flecks of silver in her irises reflected the light from the torch on the nearby wall. It was one of the very first things he had noticed about her when he came to the tower: how beautiful her eyes were and how the light would shine in them. It would have devastated him to never be able to look into those eyes again.  
  
"You haven't exactly made me 'yours,' just yet," she corrected, moving closer to him once again. She leaned up to gently nip at his jaw, her lips curving into a smile against his skin.  
  
"Though that might soon change," she added in a whisper.  
  
Cullen closed his eyes and groaned, his head swimming with images of the sinful things those five simple words promised. Varia knew he wanted it as much as she did, even if he had never verbally expressed his desire to bed her. The way he looked at her and held her and kissed her were more than enough to give away his desires.  
  
"I should go," he said, pulling away from her reluctantly. Varia simply nodded, though she grasped his hand and held fast to it until he completely backed away from her. Once out of her reach, he stared at her longingly for moment before finally turning away and walking out of the room to resume his duties.  
  
Varia sighed heavily as he faded from her doorway, then went over to her new bed and allowed herself to fall backward onto the soft, downy mattress. Soon, her mind began running through the events of her day so far. She had awakened from her successful Harrowing, been declared a full mage of the Circle, met a Grey Warden, learned her best friend was about to be made tranquil on a false suspicion of him being a blood mage, discovered he was _also_ in a forbidden relationship with a Chantry girl, agreed to conspire with him and his lover to help them both escape the tower, and promised herself to the man she loved... and it wasn't even midday, yet.  
  
As she let her eyes fall closed to allow herself to rest for a minute and gather her nerve before she went back out to begin her part of the plan to free Jowan from the templars' hold on him, she wondered what else the day had yet in store for her.


	5. A Betrayal of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia receives a gift from a friend, has a conversation with the Grey Warden about magic, and mistakenly places her trust in the man she has looked up to for most of her life.

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Five**  
  
Varia groaned and stretched, reaching up with one hand to rub the sleep from her eyes, and suddenly froze in place. A moment later, her eyes flew open and she shot up into a sitting position on her bed. She had only meant to rest her eyes for a moment, and instead managed to fall asleep in an awkward position lying across the mattress with her feet danging over the edge. At least... that was how she remembered lying there. Now she found herself properly laid out on the bed, a fresh dent in the pillow where her head had just been. Apparently someone had moved her – perhaps Cullen, maybe Irving – and she had been so exhausted she didn't even register it.  
  
"Maker's breath!" she uttered quietly, wondering just how late it was. If she had slept well into the night and Jowan had already been taken for the Rite of Tranquility, she would never forgive herself.  
  
She took off her apprentice robes and poured some water into the basin at her bedside to wash up quickly before heading back out into the tower to complete the task Jowan and Lily had entrusted her with, but when she went to gather up her new mage robes she found two packages wrapped in brown paper with her name on them. Curious, she opened the top package and found a different set of yellow robes fashioned in the popular style worn by Tevinter mages, complete with feathered pauldrons and a pair of black stockings embellished with yellow-gold accents to match the robes. Assuming the second package contained an identical set of robes and stockings, she knew immediately who the gift was from - but she had no idea how he had managed to get it to her. Seeing a folded note tucked away within the robes, she pulled it free and sat on the trunk full of her belongings to read it.  
  
_To the Most Enchanting Elven Apprentice in the Tower–_  
  
_Or should I be saying 'The Most Enchanting Elven Mage,' now? Congratulations on passing your Harrowing! I'm sorry I couldn't be there to congratulate you properly, but you know me... I can't seem to stay out of trouble._  
  
Varia rolled her eyes. She could easily imagine the smirk on his face as he thought about how he wanted to 'congratulate' her.  
  
_Luckily, the First Enchanter agreed to pass these on to you for me, and he even said I could have a moment to write you this note before they throw me back into solitary for another term – this time a full year! Can you believe that? They caught me the quickest this time, and I still manage to get an even longer sentence in that rat-infested hole! At least I'll have Mr. Wiggums to keep me company._  
  
If he had been standing before her, she would have pointed out that the length of his sentence didn't have anything to do with how quickly they had caught him, but the number of times he had escaped. His last sentence had been eight months – which was cut down to six when Greagoir lacked enough manpower to keep a guard constantly on his door for the rest of the term. A year was nothing. He should be glad he was still alive after seven successful escapes.  
  
_I know you will look absolutely ravishing in these robes, my dear. They're so much more elegant than the frumpy ones we're given here at the tower, don't you think? And they're the same color, so they can't complain too much. Just make sure you wear the stockings with them – it completes the whole look. I can't wait to see you in these!_  
  
_Kisses,_  
_Anders_  
  
Varia sighed and folded the paper once more, then set it aside and stared at the robes Anders had gotten for her. She vaguely wondered if he had actually _paid_ for them, or stolen them. Perhaps he had performed some sort of exchange of services in order to get them – which, for Anders, likely meant spending a few lustful nights with a lonely woman whose husband was away in exchange for having her make or buy the robes for him. No matter what he had done to get them, though, he had gotten them just for her. It was a sweet, if self-serving, gesture.  
  
She knew he simply wanted to see her in the skimpier robes and stockings... and she was happy to oblige. If there was one thing Anders had gotten right in his letter, it was that the robes they were given to wear were too restricting – or 'frumpy,' as he had called them – to do any _real_ spell-casting. It would take more than her fingers and toes to count the number of times she had been forced to hold back in her practice duels with Irving simply because she was afraid of setting her sleeves on fire. It appeared the Tevinter robes also had arm bracers, but they looked to be designed to fit snugly on the wearer's arms and not hang about the way the cloth of the Circle robes did. Perhaps the robes given to them had been designed by the Chantry as another way to try to keep them all in check.  
  
She carefully set aside the robes Irving had given her earlier in the day and dressed in the ones Anders had gotten for her, instead. If any of the other mages had a problem with it, she didn't care. If Irving told her she couldn't wear them, she would promise to stop wearing them after a week or so. After all, they were a gift and it would be rude of her to not wear them for at least a little while. And, of course, she would wear them for a day or two after Anders' release from solitary so he could see them on her. She might not be willing to let him bed her, but she could at least let him ogle her a bit for his kindness.  
  
Once she had dressed, she fixed her hair and went out into the hallway and began her trek toward the stockroom to speak to Owain about retrieving a rod of fire. She stopped one of the senior enchanters along the way – a sour-faced woman named Leorah –  to ask her what time of day it was, and was greatly relieved to discover that it was still early in the afternoon. She thanked the woman, then continued on her way with purpose in her step. She wouldn't fail Jowan. She _would_ help him escape the tower...  
  
Her steps slowed a bit as doubt once more started to seep into her mind. What if Jowan was wrong? What if Lily had been mistaken when she saw the paperwork for the Rite of Tranquility? What if it had actually been an order for Jowan to take his Harrowing? If that was the case, she would be dooming her friend rather than saving him. She should talk to Irving about it, even if Jowan and Lily had both decided against it. He was her mentor, like a father to her, the man she trusted most in the entire world. Surely he would help clear Jowan's name once he knew the accusations against him had been false.  
  
"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. I am Owain. How may I assist you?"  
  
The jumble of thoughts in Varia's head stopped when she heard he monotone voice of the stockroom's tranquil keeper asking what she needed. She hadn't realized she was already there, and she stared at him dumbly for a moment to collect herself before speaking.  
  
"I require a rod of fire," she told him, trying to sound as casual as possible. Owain didn't seem to notice anything odd at all about how she was acting, though.  
  
"Rods of fire serve many purposes," he stated. "Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?"  
  
She hadn't thought she would actually need to give a _reason_ for wanting a rod of fire. She had assumed that everything within that stockroom was for the use of the mages in the tower. She should have known she would need to give a reason, though, especially now with an apparent blood mage lurking within their ranks.  
  
"I need it for my research into... burning things," she responded, trying not to cringe at how idiotic she sounded. She didn't need a rod of fire to burn anything. Luckily, the tranquil mages kept mostly to themselves and didn't know the strengths and weaknesses of the other mages and apprentices within the tower.  
  
Owain simply nodded and turned away, going over to a nearby box and sifting through its contents, and Varia breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Soon she would have the rod of fire she needed, and then this entire ordeal would quickly be over with. Her relief was short-lived, however, as when he turned back he was holding nothing more than a piece of parchment in his hands.  
  
"Here is the form – Request for Rod of Fire," Owain told her, handing her the parchment. "Have it signed and dated by a senior enchanter. I will release a rod to you once I have the signed form."  
  
"Why can't you give it to me now?" Varia asked impatiently, looking at the form in her hands.  A cursory examination of the text revealed that the person signing the form would take full responsibility for all doings of the mage who was to receive the rod of fire, including but not limited to burning others and destroying property of the Circle of Magi.  
  
She had no choice, then. She would have to go to Irving and seek his help, for she would not risk condemning an innocent senior enchanter who had no idea of her plans when signing her form.  
  
"It is procedure," Owain explained. "I need a senior mage's authorization to release an item. Thank you."  
  
Owain went back to standing silently at his post, diligently waiting for the next mage to come along who would require his assistance, and Varia tucked away the form within her new robes before heading to the library. She knew she should be going straight to the First Enchanter's study to speak with Irving, but she needed a moment to decide what she was going to say. She didn't want to get Jowan into trouble, so she somehow needed to gauge Irving's responses to see if the Rite of Tranquility was truly set to be performed on him or not without giving away the fact that Jowan and Lily believed it would be and were planning to escape the tower together.  
  
She was surprised to see Duncan, the Grey Warden, standing before a section of bookcases, leisurely flipping through the pages of one of the tomes that had been in the circle's possession for at least a hundred years, if not more. She walked up to him, curious what he would be doing in a mage library since he was clearly not a mage, himself.  
  
"Hello, again, my young friend," Duncan greeted her without turning around, taking her by surprise. She had just been about to announce her presence, but he had somehow noticed her there even with his back to her. He closed the book in his hands and placed it back on the shelf before turning to her, and he smiled at the sight of her bewildered expression.  
  
"I hardly expected to meet you here," he said, which caused Varia to smile and let out a quiet laugh.  
  
"I should be saying the same to you, Duncan," she told him. "After all, this is a library for mages. I am a mage, so my being here makes perfect sense, does it not? You, on the other hand..."  
  
Duncan chuckled. "I may not be a mage, but I still have an interest in magic," he explained. "And I was referring to your being out cold earlier as the reason I'm surprised to see you here. You didn't even move a muscle when the First Enchanter and I righted you in your bed."  
  
Varia felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment. She would have been fine with Irving seeing her like that – after all, he used to put her to bed as a child when she first arrived at the tower – but Duncan was an entirely different matter. He was an honored guest, and a Grey Warden. A certain amount of decorum was expected of the tower's inhabitants when someone like him was visiting.  
  
"There is no need to be embarrassed, my dear lady," Duncan assured her. "I know all about the Harrowing. It is quite understandable that you would be physically exhausted after such an ordeal."  
  
"How do you know about the Harrowing?" she wondered. "We're not permitted to speak of it to anyone who has not yet taken theirs."  
  
"Mages in the order like to talk," he simply replied. "Certain ones do, anyway."  
  
"I see... So why were you with Irving in my quarters?" she wondered, recalling he had said they were there together and not that Irving had gone to seek his help in moving her to a proper position in her bed.  
  
"I simply had some things I wished to discuss with you, things which also concerned Irving," Duncan told her.  
  
"Such as?" Varia prompted, her heart racing. If a Grey Warden wished to speak to both her and the First Enchanter about something, did that mean he wished to recruit her? And, if so, was he recruiting her for the King's Army or the Grey Wardens? Either way, she would end up leaving the tower. She hadn't been in the outside world for almost a decade. She barely remembered what it was like outside the tower walls. It would be nice to have a change of scenery, but the thought of leaving behind everything she had known for most of her life was rather daunting.  
  
"You don't fear using the power at your disposal, do you?" Duncan asked her, his dark brown eyes sizing her up as he spoke. "It is dangerous, yes, but necessary."  
  
"I have never felt endangered by magic," she told him. Yes, there was that story about how she had been brought to the tower after killing a man with her magic, but she could remember no such thing ever having taken place. As far as she was concerned, it was just a rumor – a story concocted by the other apprentices who were jealous of her abilities and the First Enchanter's personal involvement in her training.  
  
"What about abominations? Or blood magic? Do you deny these things exist?"  
  
Varia found it odd that he would ask her of blood magic and abominations, especially since he had been present when she was discussing the issue of blood magic with Irving earlier. Was he suspicious that she was the blood mage?  
  
"I do not deny the existence of these things, nor am I foolish enough to think they are not dangerous," she replied. "Since you know about the Harrowing, I am sure you know what is done to a mage during that test. I will have you know that it is not an experience I would ever like to face again. Not because I fear that I will succumb the second time around, but because I have seen the true face of the evil which lies in the souls of men and it is... terrifying," she concluded, shuddering at the memory of her encounter with the pride demon.  
  
"I'm glad you see that," Duncan said, nodding in agreement. "Exercising some caution is always wise. It seems you have a good head on your shoulders, just as Irving said."  
  
"Thank you, Duncan."  
  
"If I may, though... You seem troubled. Is something bothering you?" he asked, that scrutinizing gaze of his fixed upon her once more.  
  
"A friend of mine is going through a personal crisis," she told him. She didn't want to lie to the man, but telling him the complete truth was also a bad idea. Thankfully, he didn't pry any more and instead chose to take his leave.  
  
"In that case, I am sure you have better things to do than stand around chatting with an old man," he told her, giving her a slight bow before stepping around her. "We shall talk more, later."  
  
Varia bade him goodbye and watched him leave, still unsure why he seemed so interested in her. Returning to the task at hand, she decided to stop stalling and speak to Irving. She had no idea what she would say to him, but she couldn't put off the conversation any longer. Every minute which went by was another minute that brought Jowan closer to being made tranquil against his will.  
  
She turned around and left the library, passing by Owain once more on her way to Irving's study. She kept her pace steady, until she reached the doorway... then she hesitated. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she finally stepped forward into the open doorway. Irving immediately turned around from straightening another stack of books on his desk – probably more tomes on forbidden magics – and smiled warmly at her as she approached him.  
  
"Feeling better, I hope?" he asked her, and Varia forced a smile. It quickly faded, however, and she shook her head.  
  
"What is bothering you, child?"  
  
"When is Jowan going to be taken for his Harrowing?" she asked him, deciding it was best to not beat around the bush and just come right out and ask him for the truth without actually admitting to what Jowan was up to.  
  
"He will go through it when he is ready, just like any other mage," Irving told her.  
  
"He's ready _now_ ," Varia insisted, the volume of her voice rising slightly.  
  
"That is not for you to decide," her mentor reminded her. "Why are you so concerned about this matter, anyway?"  
  
"Because he's my friend," she answered quietly, averting her eyes from his.  
  
"Oh? And this has nothing to do with the fact that he is about to be made tranquil?"  
  
Varia's eyes snapped back to Irving's face and she found him staring intently at her with his arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised in question.  
  
"I... How did you..." she stumbled over her own words, shocked that the older mage was somehow aware that Jowan knew he was going to be made tranquil.  
  
"So it's true, then?" she finally managed to say, holding his gaze steadily with her own.  
  
Irving let out a heavy sigh, seeing the sadness written in her eyes. He knew the two of them were good friends, and had been so since she had first come to the tower. If Jowan had gone to anyone about his predicament once he discovered it, Irving knew that it would be her he went to.  
  
"I am sorry, child," he apologized, no longer able to face the pain she was feeling and instead choosing to avert his eyes in the direction of the floor. "I know you and he are close. If there was any way I could prevent this from happening... believe me, I would. But I am afraid my hands are tied."  
  
"Surely you can do _something_ ," Varia pleaded. "Talk to Greagoir. Tell him he's made a terrible mistake."  
  
"Greagoir says he has proof – and eyewitness testimony – that Jowan has been practicing blood magic."  
  
"And who is this 'eyewitness' of his?" Varia asked, a sharp, bitter edge to her voice. "One of his templar lackeys? You would trust one of them at their word over your own people? For all we know, Greagoir could be making this entire thing up! He hates all mages!"  
  
"Lower your voice, child," Irving admonished her, his own voice barely above a whisper. "You know what sort of punishment awaits those of us who speak out against the templars so openly."  
  
"So I get thrown into solitary for a week. It would be worth it to save the life of my best friend."  
  
"There is nothing you can do," Irving told her, firmly.  
  
"Jowan isn't a blood mage!" Varia insisted, her voice getting louder once more as tears began to sting in her eyes. "This is all just a misunderstanding. He's not sneaking around the tower in order to perform secret, dark rituals."  
  
"I know," Irving said. "He's sneaking around to dally about with that apprentice."  
  
Varia stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering if she had heard him correctly.  
  
"You... You _know_ about him and Lily?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Of course I do," he told her. "I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."  
  
Varia swallowed nervously. _She_ hadn't even picked up on the relationship between them, and she knew Jowan better than anyone in the tower. If Irving had discovered their relationship, then perhaps he also knew about the one she was having with Cullen. For a brief moment, she considered asking him about it before changing her mind. If Irving _didn't_ already know about her stolen moments with the templar, she'd be condemning her love to a severe punishment by outing them. It was best she just keep it to herself and hope that if Irving did know, he was doing his best to help them keep their romance a secret.  
  
"She is the one who told him that he would be undergoing the Rite of Tranquility, is she not?" Irving wondered. Varia nodded and looked away from him.  
  
"There is something else you are not telling me," he added, his dark eyes narrowing as he observed her.  
  
"They're planning to run away together," she informed him, still unable to look at him.  
  
"That is a foolish notion. The templars will catch them right away, and he would not only still be made tranquil, but the young woman he's been flitting around with would also be punished."  
  
"They're... They plan to destroy Jowan's phylactery before they go," Varia admitted, unsure why she was so readily telling him everything. Perhaps a part of her thought that Irving might help them accomplish their goal. After all, it was no secret that he had no real love for the templars who ruled over his mages in the tower.  
  
"I take it they have trusted you with this information because they have asked you to help them carry out their plan?"  
  
"Yes," Varia said.  
  
"Good," Irving replied, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he would indeed be willing to help them, after all.  
  
"If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy," he continued, and Varia's heart sank as she looked at him.  
  
"You have no intention of helping Jowan at all, do you?" she asked him, her voice full of quiet anger. "You're going to use him to get back at the Chantry, instead."  
  
"My hands are tied when it comes to protecting Jowan," Irving told her. "At this point, there is nothing I can do. Any protests I have made on his behalf fell upon deaf ears – and, yes, I did stand up for him on several occasions before the rite was decided upon. Once the templars hear the words 'blood magic,' there is nothing that will stop them from seeking punishment against the accused. You are guilty until proven otherwise, and the proof must come from one of their own as they believe any mage standing up for those accused of being maleficarum are either thralls of the blood mage or simply too oblivious to see the signs themselves."  
  
"But why not help Jowan escape, then?" she asked him. "Help him and Lily get away from here so they can be together and have a happy life away far away from this place."  
  
"If you want to survive, you must learn the rules and realize that sometimes, sacrifices are necessary."  
  
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man who had taught her everything she knew about magic, the one who had protected her and cared for her, the very man she had looked up to ever since she was a small child was suggesting she sacrifice one of the most important people in her life. And for what? To keep the templars from accusing them of being blood mages, too? It wasn't really happening. It couldn't be. And yet, it was. The man she had trusted, looked up to, and loved as a father had just shown her his true colors.  
  
"You're asking me to sacrifice my best friend!"  
  
"I'm sorry, child," he apologized, guilt written across his features. "Jowan _will_ be made tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences her actions. And I need you to help me ensure that will happen."  
  
"Fine," Varia spat, reaching into her robes to retrieve the form Owain had given her. She unfolded the parchment and thrust it toward him. "Sign this, then, so I can hand over the Chantry whore and the supposed maleficar, as you wish."  
  
"Varia, there is no need to be so hostile--"  
  
"Isn't there?" she interrupted him. "I'm sorry, but I thought you were sacrificing two innocent young people in love just to protect your own hide." Irving sighed heavily, shaking his head, and took the parchment from her.  
  
"I have my reasons for doing this, child," he told her. "You would not understand even if I told you, however. Perhaps, in time, you will."  
  
"I highly doubt that."  
  
Irving looked at her quietly for a moment before turning his gaze to the form she had given him. He read the first few lines, his brow scrunching up in confusion.  
  
"A rod of fire? Why would you... Oh, I see. They mean to use this to attempt to get into the phylactery chamber. I should inform you: it will not work."  
  
"And why is that?" Varia asked, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"The door is warded against all magic. Why else would we use something as mundane as keys to open it?" he said, giving her a small smile. When she didn't return the gesture, he averted his eyes to the parchment in his hands once more. After a moment of complete silence between them, he turned and took the parchment over to his desk to sign it.  
  
"There is another door just down the hall from the one to the phylactery chamber," he informed her. "The rod should work on that one. Go through there and follow the lower corridors until you reach the artifact room. One of the walls is weak from age and dampness. Coincidentally, this wall is shard by the phylactery chamber. There should be a Tevinter statue shaped like a hound in storage there. Its purpose is to amplify the effectiveness of spells. Point the statue at the wall, use the rod on it, and that should get you into the phylactery chamber.  
  
"I will be waiting with Greagoir and a contingent of templars when you come out," he said, coming back around the desk and handing the signed form back to her. "Do this, and you will be rewarded. Just remember not to mention the possibility of an alternate route of entry too quickly. You would not want to draw suspicion onto yourself and ruin our plan, after all."  
  
"Very well," Varia said coldly, snatching the form from his hands. "I'll do your dirty work for you, but don't expect me to like it. And don't expect me to trust you ever again."  
  
Irving watched her turn and walk away from him, every muscle in her body tense in anger, and quietly went back to his desk. With a groan, he sank down into his chair and placed a hand to his head. He hated having to do this to her, but he knew it was the only way he could avoid losing them both. She would likely never forgive him, but maybe someday she would at least understand.


	6. The Break-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia assists Jowan in his quest to destroy his phylactery, all the while having a heavy heart due to the knowledge of what fate awaits him once the task is completed.

 

 

****

**Chapter Six**  
  
Varia stormed out of the First Enchanter's study, signed form in hand, and marched straight back to the stockroom. She still couldn't believe that Irving would willingly throw Jowan to the templars simply for being in love with an initiate of the Chantry. Of course, the templars believed he was some sort of evil blood mage, and even if the truth behind why he was sneaking around the tower at night had been revealed they would have probably _still_ believed him to be a maleficar and claimed that Lily was a victim of some sort of mind control spell and they weren't really in love, at all.  
  
She supposed that was the point Irving was trying to make: it was a lose-lose situation, no matter how they looked at it. The templars would never listen to them without solid, irrefutable proof that Jowan wasn't a blood mage, and without that proof they would likely be branded as his thralls or – worse still – accomplices. It didn't matter, though. Sacrificing two innocent people was never the answer to any problem. She would do what Irving had asked of her, for he was her superior within the Circle, but the idea of betraying Jowan and Lily still didn't sit well with her.  
  
Perhaps, once they were all 'caught in the act,' she would throw herself at the mercy of the Knight-Commander and beg him to hear her out as she proclaimed Jowan's innocence. Once they realized that he wasn't a blood mage and his only crime had been falling in love, Jowan would merely receive a sentence of time spent in solitary while Lily would be shipped off to serve the Maker elsewhere. It would break his heart to lose her, but at least then the two of them would still be alive and Jowan wouldn't be made tranquil. Maybe Anders could even help him escape once his latest term of imprisonment was over and then he would be able to reunite with Lily somewhere away from the Chantry's prying eyes.  
  
Her blood was rushing in her ears so badly that she didn't even hear a word Owain said to her when she reached the stockroom. She merely handed him the signed request form – which was badly crumpled from being held in her clenched fist, but he didn't seem to mind – and took the rod of fire from him when he gave it to her in return. She then made her way back to the chapel, her footsteps echoing loudly as she stomped along. She knew she had to get her emotions under control, lest Jowan and Lily figure out that something had gone terribly wrong in their plans, but it was hard to reign them in when she was feeling so much anger. How could Irving so coldly cast Jowan aside as a lost cause? Wasn't it his duty to protect all of the mages in the tower, including the apprentices? After everything he had done over the years to protect her...  
  
But was was the rub, wasn't it? Irving always protected _her_. She was his apprentice, and their bond ran deeper than that between most apprentices and their mentors due to the situation under which she had been brought to the tower. She'd been a very small child when she first arrived at Kinloch Hold, and he had treated her with a kindness and caring she had rarely ever experienced from a human up to that point. He taught her to read and write, helped her hone her magical skills, and had always been there for her whenever she needed him. It seemed the others had been right all along: he clearly favored her over everyone else. And that favoritism had apparently blinded her to the sort of man he really was.  
  
By the time she reached the chapel doorway her steps had slowed considerably, her anger having finally ebbed away into sadness. What should have been a happy day for her was turning out to be one of the worst in her life. She had already lost her father-figure and she was about to lose her best friend, as well. The only person she would have left in the tower who cared about her after it was all said and done would be Cullen, and she couldn't very well just go to him whenever she needed someone to turn to. Miranda wasn't an option. She was a nice enough girl, and Varia enjoyed her company, but she was a tactless gossip. There was always Anders, she supposed, but he would still be locked away in solitary for the next five months and after that it was only a matter of time before he took off again. Besides, she couldn't ever have a totally serious conversation with him. He always ruined it either by being a complete smartass or trying to convince her to sleep with him. Once Jowan and Lily had been caught red-handed and taken away to their individual fates, she would no longer have anyone she could confide in or go to in times of need. She would, essentially, be alone.  
  
"There you are!" Jowan whispered loudly as she approached the alcove where she had left him and Lily. She looked up at him, forcing a smile.  
  
"We've been waiting here for _hours_! Did you get the rod?" he asked anxiously. Varia held up the rod of fire to show him, and he let out a relieved sigh. "Good! All this standing around is making me nervous."  
  
"To the repository, then," Lily ordered, grasping Jowan's hand in her own and squeezing it tightly. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."  
  
Varia turned away from them and began walking out of the chapel without a word, and the three of them continued to move through the tower in silence until they finally reached the door leading to the underground chambers beneath the tower.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Jowan asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You haven't said a word since you came to the chapel to get us."  
  
Varia looked at him, and he must have seen the sadness in her eyes, because he immediately wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close to his chest.  
  
"Please, don't cry," he pleaded with her, one of his hands rubbing small circles across her back. "If you get started then I might cry, too, and we really can't afford to waste time on tears right now. You know I would stay if I could, but it's not safe for me here any more."  
  
"I know," Varia told him, her voice strained as she fought to hold back the tears which were threatening to spill out of her eyes at any moment. "I just want you to remember that no matter what happens, I will always be your friend."  
  
"That's... an odd thing to say at a time like this," Jowan remarked, pulling away from her and giving her a perplexed look. Varia merely shrugged and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, smiling as best she could.  
  
"It simply... seemed like the right thing to say, given the circumstances," she explained, though in her mind she wanted to say something entirely different to him.  
  
_I'm so sorry, Jowan. Please, please forgive me for what I am about to do. Irving gave me no choice. I should have listened to you. I never should have trusted him. I was wrong._  
  
"So what are you two planning to do once you leave here?" she asked as casually as she could, changing the subject before she blurted out what she had been thinking, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked the door to the lower level and pulled it open.  
  
"We're getting as far away from here as we can, that's for sure," Jowan told her, following into the darker corridor below.  
  
"We'll most likely go to the outskirts of Ferelden," Lily added, bringing up the rear and closing the door once more behind them in order to prevent the youngest of the apprentices from venturing down into the damp and dusty tunnels of the old dungeon.  
  
"Or Orlais," Jowan suggested. "Maybe even Kirkwall. We're not sure yet, really, but once we've found a place and settled I'll contact you somehow to let you know where we are and that we're safe.  
  
Varia nodded absently, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering in the cool dampness of the air around them. She remembered that when Anders had first started escaping, the templars would place him in one of the cells housed in the lower chambers. However, they later decided to move him up to the templar quarters so they would be able to keep a closer eye on him at all times – or so that was the excuse they gave. Part of her wondered if they just didn't want to have to stand around in these cold, dark corridors to watch over him for his increasingly long sentences in solitary confinement. Now, the dungeons were an all-but-forgotten part of the tower, and if anyone ever ventured down there without being noticed or telling someone where they were going, they risked the chance of not being discovered until they were nothing but a pile of bones.  
  
"Here it is," Lily announced when they reached a large door. Varia looked around for the alternate entry route Irving had mentioned, but it was the only door in the entire area.  
  
"Are you sure this is it?" Varia asked, brandishing the rod of fire.  
  
"Oh! This isn't the door to the phylactery chamber," Lily explained. "This door leads to the full body of the tower's lower chambers. We do not require the rod for this, merely a password to prime it and a spell to open it. The spell must be cast by one who has gone through the Harrowing, however, or else Jowan and I would have likely figured out a way into the phylactery chamber on our own."  
  
"And I take it you know the password?" Varia asked, tucking the rod away in her robes once more.  
  
"Yes," Lily replied, a sly little smirk playing upon her lips. "I got it from a templar who recently accompanied a mage into the vault."  
  
"He just... gave it to you? Just like that? No questions about why you wanted it?"  
  
"We have chatted on many occasions," Lily explained. "I believe he trusts me. It's not as if I simply went up to him and asked him what the password for this door was, either. I managed to work the topic into a seemingly normal conversation."  
  
"I see," Varia said, eying the woman suspiciously. She certainly was a tricky one, this supposed Chantry initiate. Varia vaguely wondered if she wasn't some sort of spy who had been sent to the circle in order to test the effectiveness of the templars who were overseeing things there. She quickly pushed the notion out of her head, however, for Jowan's sake. He seemed to genuinely love this woman. Varia simply hoped he wasn't making yet another mistake by trusting her.  
  
"So what is the password?" she prompted Lily, gesturing toward the large, wooden door. Lily turned toward the door and held her hand aloft in the air as if she were about to recite one of the affirmations from the Chant of Light.  
  
"Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade."  
  
A distinct clicking sound could be heard emanating from the door, which Varia took to mean that the password had been effective in priming to door to receive her spell. She stepped forward, coming to stand next to Lily, and allowed the magic in her blood to rise within her.  
  
"What spell should I use?" she asked, in case there was a certain type of spell that would not work in opening the door.  
  
"Any spell will do," Lily told her. "The primed door simply needs to feel the touch of mana from a mage. Please hurry, though. I fear we haven't much time."  
  
Varia nodded, sadly thinking about how she had no idea just how correct that statement had been, and cast a small frost spell at the door. It immediately unlatched and swung inward several inches, and the three of them proceeded into the next corridor.  
  
"This is it!"  
  
Jowan rushed forward, past both of them, and laid his hands upon a door directly across from the one they had just entered. He examined it briefly, then nodded and turned to fix his gaze upon Varia.  
  
"This is the door to the phylactery chamber!" he exclaimed. "We're nearly there. Quickly, melt off the lock."  
  
Varia silently stepped forward and brandished the rod of fire once more, pointing it in the direction of the door. She turned her gaze toward Jowan and Lily, who had moved aside in order to allow her to do her part, but instead of truly looking at either of them she was looking past them at a second door situated further down the corridor.  
  
_That must be the one Irving spoke of._  
  
"Well? What are you waiting for?" Jowan prompted, gesturing impatiently toward the door which led to the phylactery chamber. "Melt the lock, already!"  
  
Varia turned her attention back to the task at hand and attempted to melt off the lock. The heaviness in her heart would not allow her to convincingly fake her surprise at the failure of the object in her hand to perform its intended task, so instead of voicing the obvious fact that this door was a dead end she once more tried to melt the lock with no effect whatsoever.  
  
"Oh, no," she heard Lily gasp before she broke away from Jowan's side and stepped closer to the door to examine the carvings in the stone arch surrounding it.  
  
"This door is warded against all magic," she said after a moment, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I should have known! Why would Irving and Greagoir need to use mundane keys to gain entry through such a door? Because _magical_ keys don't work!"  
  
"What about that door?" Jowan wondered, gesturing toward the door at the opposite end of the hallway. "It probably leads to another part of the repository. Maybe we can find a way around?"  
  
"Or we could just forget about this and leave," Varia suggested. Maybe if she could convince Jowan to turn back now, there might still be a chance that Greagoir could be reasoned with. Perhaps she could talk the Knight-Commander into putting Jowan to the Harrowing right away. If he passed, it would be proof that he was not the supposed threat the templars believed him to be. If he failed, he would die. Either way, the issue would be resolved.  
  
"I've come too far to turn back now," he told her, shaking his head. "Why are you suddenly trying to convince me this is a bad idea? You didn't seem to have a problem with what I wanted to do, before."  
  
"I just don't want to see you get hurt," Varia replied, but she knew it would take more than a simple explanation such as that to keep him from becoming suspicious of her. "This task is obviously more complicated than we had originally anticipated it would be. Who knows what sort of traps could be lying ahead to keep mages out of the phylactery chamber?"  
  
"I'm going to do this, with or without your help," Jowan insisted, holding his hand out toward her. Varia looked at his open palm for a moment, wondering if she should just give him the rod of fire and leave the two of them to complete their plans on their own. If she did, however, and they ended up getting caught anyway... Both she and Irving would be punished for aiding in his attempted escape. She would willingly take the punishment, but no matter how angry she was at the First Enchanter for putting her in this position, she could not condemn him to whatever sentence the Chantry would see fit for his involvement.  
  
Without another word, she stepped around Jowan and went to the opposite end of the corridor. Rod of fire in hand, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves, once again apologizing to her best friend in the back of her mind, then proceeded to use it on the locked door. This time, she could feel the thrum of magic traveling through the object in her hand. A moment later, the distinct, heavy sound of the handle falling off the door echoed through the corridor.  
  
"That's it! We've done it!" she heard Jowan shout gleefully behind her. Among his joyful celebration of their successful entry into the rest of the lower chambers, however, she heard another sound. It was the creaking sound of heavy armor, and when she turned her head to look at the armed sentinel standing next to the door, she saw it beginning to move.  
  
"Oh, that's _not_ good..." she muttered under her breath a split second before tossing a Winter's Grasp spell at the magically animated suit of armor, effectively freezing it in place before it had the chance to bring down its large axe on top of her head. She backed away several feet to prepare her next spell, but before she had a chance to cast one a bolt of lightning went flying past her and directly into the sentinel's chest. It twitched as the current of electricity ran through it, magnified by the metal armor it was created from. Varia added one of her own, more powerful lightning bolts to the already existing spell on the sentinel, and it quickly fell to the ground.  
  
"You've gotten much better at that," she remarked as Jowan and Lily joined her before the door she had just unlocked, turning to smile at him. She had taught him that spell nearly a year ago, and no matter how hard she tried to help him improve he had only ever been able to cast a very weak version of the spell which had no lasting effect and merely gave the target a light zap.  
  
"I had some help," Jowan told her, avoiding her gaze. She thought his demeanor was sort of odd and she found it strange that he didn't mention _who_ had helped him, but she supposed he simply didn't want to make her feel bad for not being able to successfully help him hone his skills, herself.  
  
"Well, I'm glad you found someone who has been able to mentor you better than I could," she told him before continuing into the next corridor.  
  
As soon as they reached the first corner, the three of them found themselves being attacked by another pair of sentinels. Jowan and Varia each took on one of them, and she was surprised when he managed to take down his opponent almost as easily as she dealt with her own. She raised an eyebrow at him, even more baffled at his sudden increase in talent at spell-casting, but he merely smiled at her and gave her a wink as if to say, ' _I told you I found someone to help me_.'  
  
"I feel completely useless here, you know," Lily commented before Varia had a chance to question Jowan further about this mystery tutor of his.  
  
"Just be sure to stay back so you don't get hurt," Varia told the other woman. "We'll take care of any other sentinels along the way."  
  
"I appreciate your concern," Lily said, "but I really am capable of holding my own in a fight. Before I went to the Chantry, I had to protect myself on the streets of Denerim."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Varia blinked at her in disbelief. She seemed like the quiet, mousy type who would have spent her entire life in the Chantry's care, not some street rat who would get into scraps with back alley thugs.  
  
"My family died three years ago, and I was left to fend for myself," Lily explained. "It was not an easy life. In fact, I was attacked by one of the gangs in the slums and left for dead. When I awoke in the chantry, I took it as a sign that the Maker wanted me to serve Him."  
  
"Yet, here you are – running away from the Chantry in order to be with a mage," Varia pointed out the contradiction.  
  
"Yes, I suppose it's a bit ironic," she agreed, laughing. "But I believe that love is blind. There is no such thing as race or creed when it comes to love, and it can often be found in the most unlikely of places. We only need to open our hearts to it."  
  
Varia felt even worse upon hearing those words, knowing that she was about the condemn this young woman – who quite clearly felt the same way she did when it came to love – to a punishment that she didn't feel she deserved.  
  
"All I need is a dagger, and I will be able to help you both fend off any enemies who may attack us along the way to the phylactery chamber."  
  
"Out of the question," Jowan spoke up, shaking his head and turning to his lover with his arms folded across his chest. "I don't doubt you can handle your own in a fight, Lily, but these guardians are not simple bandits. They are magical beings. I don't wish to see you get hurt, so I would appreciate it if you would stay back as Varia suggested and let us handle things."  
  
"All right," Lily reluctantly agreed, nodding slightly.  
  
They continued through the rest of the lower corridors, fighting the occasional small groups of sentinels – and one group of deep stalkers which someone had apparently been trying to secretly hatch in one of the unused dungeons. Eventually, they came to the end of the maze of corridors and found themselves facing a door very similar to the one which led to the phylactery chamber.  
  
"This is the repository," Lily stated. "Perhaps if we explore the room we will find another way into the phylactery chamber. If I recall correctly, they are directly adjacent to one another."  
  
Varia checked the door to see if it was locked and, upon finding it open, pushed it inward and stepped into the room. Jowan and Lily followed, and she looked about for the statue Irving had mentioned under the guise of checking for any way that might lead them into the phylactery chamber. Even given the current situation, she couldn't help but marvel at all of the artifacts within the room. There were statues of dragons and carved idols of strange gods, and one table even held a giant globe which looked like a map of all of Thedas had been stretched around it, and it slowly spun while clouds floated gently around the surface.  
  
The thing that most caught Varia's attention, however, was a staff leaning against a nearby wall. It was severely degraded and the wood appeared to be black and rotten in places, but there was no mistaking that it was made of heartwood, a rare magical material used by the Dalish in crafting armor and weapons. She had read about the material when she was younger – as she tried to find some sort of connection to her elven heritage in the various books of the mages' library – and had always wanted to possess something made from it to give her a tie to the past of her people. She knew she should leave the staff alone, but she reached out her hand and grasped it, even as she removed the staff Irving had given her that morning.  
  
"Greetings," she heard a voice say nearby, and stopped with her newly-acquired staff halfway to her back.  
  
"Who said that?" she asked, looking back at Jowan and Lily, who merely shrugged at her.  
  
"I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius."  
  
Varia turned her head in the direction the voice was coming from, but saw only a statue of a female warrior standing in the corner of the room. Cautiously, she began to make her way toward it.  
  
"Prophecy, my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."  
  
"What are you talking about?" she asked the statue, which she now knew to be the source of the strange, haunting voice.  
  
"'Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress,' he said, 'and tell your lies to all who pass...' But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold."  
  
"Don't listen to it!" Lily warned, reaching out and grasping Varia's shoulder. "This is a wicked thing!"  
  
"Still," Jowan said, stepping closer to the statue to examine it. "I feel a bit sorry for it... her."  
  
"Weep not for me, child," the statue replied. "Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again."  
  
"What does that mean?" Varia asked quietly, somehow feeling that the statement held a deeper meaning.  
  
"Ambiguous rubbish. It could mean anything. Look, I can do it, too," Jowan remarked, turning back to her and gesturing grandly with his arms. "The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!"  
  
Varia couldn't help smiling at him, even though she could hear Lily's clearly annoyed sigh behind her.  
  
"Stop talking to it, please. Both of you," she begged.  
  
"Right," Varia acquiesced. "We have much to do, yet."  
  
The three of them turned away from the now-quiet statue and began searching the rest of the repository for any signs of a secret entrance into the phylactery chamber. Varia's eyes kept falling upon a large bookshelf which happened to be directly situated across from the statue Irving had described to her, but she made no move toward it. She would give the others more time to discover the possible entrance before pretending to stumble upon it, herself.  
  
"I think I've found something!" Jowan called after another couple of minutes had passed, and both of the women went to join him before the bookcase.  
  
"This old wall is about to come down any moment," he commented, gesturing to the wall behind the bookcase. "Perhaps if we move these shelves, we could find a way to knock it down. With any luck, the phylactery chamber could be on the other side."  
  
"I suppose we should move this, then," Varia remarked, and the two of them slowly pushed the bookcase aside. Lily walked up to the wall once they were done and pressed on some of the bricks, but they were not loose enough to give way completely.  
  
"What now?" she asked, looking to the two mages for an idea.  
  
Varia wandered to the dog-shaped statue which sat facing the old wall, and tentatively ran her hand over the smooth, polished surface of its head. Without a word, she pulled the rod of fire from its place within her robes and tapped it to the statue. A large burst of fire spewed from the statue's mouth, causing both Jowan and Lily to jump backwards in order to avoid being set aflame.  
  
"Watch what you're doing!" Jowan scolded her, and Varia flashed him an apologetic smile.  
  
"It worked," she said, pointing to the gaping hole the artifact had helped blast into the weak wall. Jowan immediately climbed through the hole, pushing more of the loose bricks through and onto the floor of the adjacent room, then turned and helped each of the women carefully climb over the small pile of rubble.  
  
"This is it!" he gasped once he finally turned around and looked at the room they were in, little puffs of steam escaping from his mouth as he spoke. "We're in the phylactery chamber!"  
  
"Now all we need to do is locate your phylactery, and we'll be free, my love." Lily cooed, tightly grasping Jowan's hands in her own.  
  
"I don't think it's going to be quite that simple," Varia remarked as the three sentinels guarding the room suddenly came to life and attacked them. These ones were stronger than the others they had previously faced, and Varia found herself quite glad that she had exchanged her issued staff for the heartwood one she had found in the repository. She focused on the two stronger sentinels while leaving the weakest one to Jowan, and after a few minutes the two of them had dealt with the threat and were heading for the phylacteries.  
  
"Which one is it?" she asked, looking at all of the vials of blood, each one taken from one of the mages who had been brought to the circle. She vaguely wondered if her own was still in the room, then recalled that Irving had said hers was already on its way to Denerim to join the others which were housed in storage at the grand cathedral.  
  
"I remember it being large, and sort of shaped like a flower that hadn't yet bloomed," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Other than that, I don't really recall."  
  
"Perhaps they have names on them," Lily suggested. Varia doubted it, but when she picked up a random phylactery off a shelf and looked it over carefully she discovered that the mage's name had been etched into the bottom of the glass phial.  
  
"Good thinking," she complimented her, then continued to check the bottom of any phylactery which fit the description Jowan had given. She eventually located it, sitting on top of a low chest toward the back of the room. She held onto it for a long while, not quite ready to face what would come after she gave it to him, then turned and walked over to him with it still clutched tightly to her chest.  
  
"Is that it?" Jowan asked, pointing to the phial of blood she was holding. She merely nodded in reply.  
  
"Well, give it here!"  
  
Varia reluctantly gave him his phylactery and watched him as he turned it around and around in his hands, smiling at the red contents swirling within.  
  
"I can't believe this is all that stands between me and my freedom," he whispered before dropping it to the ground. The glass shattered on impact, sending tiny shards skittering in every direction across the floor and leaving a good-sized blood stain on the stones.  
  
"And now I am free," he added, closing his eyes and letting out a relieved sigh.  
  
"We should get out of here," Lily insisted, grabbing his arm and pulling him along toward the door they had originally tried to enter through. "Greagoir could very well be looking for you, right now."  
  
"Thank you," Jowan told Varia, turning to smile at her over his shoulder as Lily continued to lead him away.  
  
"Don't thank me, Jowan," she replied, knowing her words were too quiet to reach his ears. "I don't deserve it."


	7. Leaving It All Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia is shocked when Jowan reveals the true nature of his magic, and she makes the tough decision to leave the one she loves and all that she has ever known behind in order to save her own life.

 

 

****

**Chapter Seven**  
  
Varia lagged several feet behind Jowan and Lily as the three of them left the lower chambers, wringing her hands and keeping her head lowered so that they wouldn't notice the tears in her eyes. This was it. Soon, they would reach the door they had entered through, and then the Jowan she knew and loved would be taken from her. He would no longer be someone she could talk to about magic - or anything else, for that matter - but he would instead serve as an everyday reminder of her betrayal of his friendship by being a tranquil mage working with Owain and the other tranquils around the tower.  
  
She bit back a sob, hating herself for what she had been forced to become. Anders often complained that Irving was too willing to bend to the will of the Chantry, but she had always defended her mentor, thinking he did what he felt was best to guide the mages in his care along the right path. Now, she was no better than him. She would be lucky if any of the other mages in the tower ever spoke to her again after they learned what she had done. Even if it hadn't been her idea, she had still gone along with it – the First Enchanter's star pupil, now his perfect little puppet.  
  
There was still a small bit of hope inside her, though. Perhaps Irving hadn't been able to convince Greagoir to wait with him for the three of them to emerge from the lower chambers. Maybe the Knight-Commander was busy or they'd gotten hung up somewhere along the way. If that was the case, she would distract the two templars who usually guarded the front entryway and help Jowan and Lily get out of the tower. Then she would take the full brunt of whatever punishment Greagoir saw fit to give her. She would not betray Jowan a second time by telling the templars of where the two of them had discussed running away to.  
  
"So what you said was true, Irving," she heard Greagoir say even before Lily had completely opened the door to the main hall of the tower. She looked up and found the Knight-Commander, along with the First Enchanter and two of the senior templars. All hope she had of Jowan making a successful escape with Lily was gone.  
  
"An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage," he continued, advancing on the three of them. His steely eyes carefully examined Lily for a moment, and then he shook his head sadly. "I'm disappointed in you, Lily.  
  
"She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind," he added, returning to stand by Irving. "Not a thrall of the blood mage, then. You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished."  
  
He turned his gaze upon Varia, then, and he smirked a bit at her. It was quite apparent he knew who had helped deliver the two people standing next to her to their dire fates. He almost seemed to be gloating at the fact that she was becoming just as compliant as Irving in 'doing her duty' within the Circle.  
  
"And here's your lackey, who so efficiently delivered these miscreants into our hands. Your plan worked, after all."  
  
She saw Jowan turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn't bear to meet his gaze. She knew what she would see on his face if she _did_ look at him: betrayal, anger, disgust. She clasped her hands together in front of her to keep them from shaking, and settled her gaze upon the stone floor as she once more felt the heaviness of her shame.  
  
"Varia?"  
  
She turned to him before she could stop herself, and when she saw the sadness and confusion in his dark blue eyes she felt herself reach her breaking point. She shook her head, her vision blurring with tears, and told him the only thing she could think of to say.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Jowan."  
  
The two of them continued to stare at one another as Greagoir discussed Jowan's punishment with Irving, and she knew things would never be the same between them after this moment. Even if she somehow managed to talk Greagoir into sparing Jowan's life – which didn't seem likely as she vaguely heard him say that Jowan's punishment would be his execution – Jowan would never trust her again. She watched his confusion morph into the hatred she had envisioned only a moment before, and a wicked little smile began playing upon his lips.  
  
Now she was the one left feeling confused, and it wasn't until he opened his mouth to speak that she realized what was going on - Jowan knew. He knew about her and Cullen, and he was going to inform Greagoir of her own indiscretions so that she wouldn't be able to walk away from this ordeal completely unpunished. It wasn't the punishment she would endure that worried her, though. It was the idea of Cullen being punished for something _she_ had done which bothered her.  
  
"Take the initiate to Aeonar," Greagoir ordered, and Jowan's entire demeanor changed once more. He suddenly looked panicked, and moved to stand in front of Lily as the templars began advancing on her and she begged not to be taken to the mages' prison.  
  
"No!" he yelled once the templars had nearly closed in on her, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small knife. "I won't let you touch her!"  
  
Varia watched in horror as Jowan brought the blade down sharply across the palm of his hand and blood began spewing forth from the wound. He gathered the magical energy of his very life essence into a powerful spell and threw it at the templars. The force of the spell was large enough to not only knock out the two knights, but also Greagoir and Irving, who were still standing back away from them.  
  
It all made sense, now. The reason Jowan had become more skilled, the way he had avoided telling her who had tutored him in spell-casting, the fact that someone _could_ tutor him better than either she or his own mentor ever could... It was all because he was a blood mage. His mysterious 'tutor' was whatever demon he had made his forbidden pact with. The rumors had been true, after all. He had simply played her – and possibly even Lily – as pawns to help him escape the tower.  
  
He suddenly rounded on her, and Varia held her breath. After seeing what he had done to the others, she feared what he might do to her in his rage. He simply glared at her, though, as if to say, 'You're dead to me,' then turned his attention upon Lily.  
  
"By the Maker," the young woman gasped, taking a step back away from him. "B-Blood magic! How could you? You said you never..."  
  
"I admit, I... I dabbled. I thought it would make me a better mage," Jowan said, his voice full of regret. Whether it was sincere or not, Varia couldn't tell. He sounded genuinely sorry for what he had done, but she had also believed him when he swore he wasn't a blood mage, in the first place.  
  
"Blood magic is evil, Jowan," Lily reminded him, and Varia could hear the sadness in her words . "It corrupts people... changes them..."  
  
"I'm going to give it up!" Jowan insisted, stepping up to her and desperately grasping her arms before she could back away from him again. "All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, come with me..."  
  
Lily shook her head and raised her arms, pulling herself out of his grasp, and backed up farther into the corner of the room as she spoke, refusing to look at him.  
  
"I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you... I... I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me..."  
  
Jowan continued to stand there a moment longer, watching Lily as she shut her eyes tightly and crossed her arms protectively around herself, closing herself off from him completely. He then turned back to look at Varia, but the anger he'd previously shown toward her had been replaced with a deep melancholy. She realized that out of the lies he had told both her and Lily, one thing _had_ been true, after all: He really loved the girl.  
  
Without a word, he took off, running in the direction of the main entryway. Varia quickly checked to be sure that Irving, Greagoir, and the others were still alive, then she ran off after him – not to try to stop him, but because she knew he would have to use his blood magic to deal with the two templars guarding the entry door, as well. Luckily, she found the templars had merely been knocked unconscious like the others and they were already starting to come around by the time she reached them, likely due to Jowan being in a weakened state from the previous use of his blood magic.  
  
She helped the templars back to their feet, asking them to get help for the others, then returned to the main hall. Lily was still backed up in the corner of the room, eyes closed and arms tightly held around herself, while Irving and the others were still out cold. She knelt next to the First Enchanter, hoping that he would be all right. She was still angry at him for making her betray Jowan – even if Jowan had betrayed her in a _much_ bigger away – but he was the closest thing to family she had. She cast a weak rejuvenation spell upon him, which was the best she could manage after all the mana she had expended in the lower corridors, and waited for him to come to.  
  
Irving finally opened his eyes just as the templar reinforcements arrived, and Varia looked around to find that Greagoir and the others were also slowly regaining consciousness.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked her, looking up at her as he grasped one of her hands and gave it a comforting squeeze.  
  
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Physically, anyway."  
  
"Where is Greagoir?" he wondered, and she helped him to his feet just as the Knight-Commander approached them with an angry scowl on his face.  
  
"I knew it! Blood magic," he said, his upper lip curling in disgust. "But to overcome so many... I never thought him capable of such power."  
  
"None of us expected this," Irving told him, looking to Varia for a moment before addressing the other man once more. "Are you all right, Greagoir?"  
  
"As good as can be expected given the circumstances!" Greagoir yelled in reply, stepping forward until he was towering over the shorter man. "If _you_ had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!"  
  
"I had my reasons," Irving calmly replied, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest.  
  
"You're not _all-knowing_ , Irving! You don't know how much influence this blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?  
  
"Where is the girl?" he demanded without waiting for the First-Enchanter's reply, turning around and searching for Lily.  
  
"I... I am here, ser," Lily replied, stepping forward from the corner where she had been hiding.  
  
"You helped a blood mage!" Greagoir continued to shout, moving over to her position and gesturing about the room. "Look at all he's hurt!"  
  
"Lily didn't know Jowan was a blood mage," Varia spoke up, not wanting to see the young woman be punished for a crime she didn't commit.  
  
"I can speak for myself," Lily told her, but there was no hint of anger or malice in her voice. She simply looked at her sadly for a moment before returning her attention to Greagoir.  
  
"Knight-Commander, I... I was wrong. I was accomplice to a... a blood mage," she said, lowering her head in shame as she approached the templar. "I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even... even Aeonar."  
  
"Get her out of my sight."  
  
One of the templars who had come to help the injured knights moved forward and grasped Lily's arm to lead her from the room and upstairs to the templar quarters, where she would remain imprisoned until they decided what would be done with her.  
  
"And _you_!" Greagoir continued on his anger-fueled rant, turning to Varia. "You were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason. Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle!"  
  
"As I said, she was working under my orders," Irving reminded him.  
  
"And this _improves_ the situation?" Greagoir shouted. "The phylactery chamber is forbidden to _all_ , save you and me! I don't care if she was working under orders from the Grand Enchanter, herself. This breach of the Chantry's laws should _not_ go unpunished!"  
  
He turned his cold grey eyes upon her and Varia suddenly felt very afraid. Even if Irving suggested a sentence of time spent in solitary, Greagoir was likely to ignore his pleas of leniency in his current state. Making her tranquil was out of the question, since she had already passed her Harrowing. That left only two options: death or Aeonar – which, from everything she had read about the magical prison, was probably _worse_ than death.  
  
"What are we to do with you?" he growled, narrowing his eyes to glare at her.  
  
"Knight-Commander, if I may."  
  
Varia turned around and saw Duncan walking over toward them, and she vaguely wondered what he was doing there. Maybe he'd overheard some of the templars discussing what had transpired and decided to investigate. More likely, though, he'd simply followed the sound of Greagoir's bellowing to its source.  
  
"What is it, Grey Warden?" Greagoir asked, the other man's title sounding like an insult coming from his mouth.  
  
"I am not only looking for mages to join the King's Army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens," Duncan explained. "Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks."  
  
"What?!" Greagoir yelled, turning accusing eyes toward the First Enchanter, and Varia winced at the volume of his voice ringing in her ears. "You're promised him a _new_ Grey Warden?"  
  
"She has served the Circle well," Irving replied, arms crossed over his chest once more, refusing to look at the Knight-Commander as he spoke. "She would make an excellent Warden."  
  
"We look for dedication in our recruits," Duncan added calmly, likely hoping to diffuse the situation before Greagoir became even more hostile. "Fighting the darkspawn requires such dedication, often at the expense of all else."  
  
"I object!" Greagoir argued, still addressing Irving. "You say she acted under _your_ orders, Irving, but _I_ do not trust her! I must investigate this issue, and I _will not_ release this mage to the Grey Warden."  
  
"If the Grey Wardens will have me, I'll gladly go!" Varia yelled at him, and he turned his steely glare upon her once more. She knew that joining the Wardens meant she would be leaving the Circle, but there was nothing left for her there. Jowan was gone, the other mages would all hate her once they found out how she'd betrayed him, and though Irving was standing up for her she still didn't wholly trust him. The only exception was Cullen. Leaving him was going to break her heart, but if she stayed she could very well end up dead. She would rather risk hurting both of them by walking away from the tower than have him end up spending the rest of his life grieving her.  
  
"Greagoir, mages are needed," Duncan attempted to reason with the Knight-Commander once more. "This mage is needed. Worse things plague the world than blood mages – you know that. I shall take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for her actions."  
  
" _This mage_ does _not_ deserve a place in the Order!"  
  
"Oh?" Irving asked, finally turning to look at him. "And why is that? Do we not reward service? She has proven herself and served the Circle well."  
  
Greagoir growled in frustration for a moment, then finally threw up his hands in surrender.  
  
"Very well, take her," he said to Duncan. "But mark my words, Irving, this is a mistake."  
  
"Consider them marked," Irving replied with a smirk, causing Greagoir to growl once more.  
  
"I want her out of this tower _tonight_. Rylock, you'll watch over her until she leaves. Make sure she doesn't do anything suspicious," he ordered before stomping off, and a female templar with dark hair and a permanent scowl went to stand next to Varia.  
  
"So I'm to be a Grey Warden, then?" Varia asked quietly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.  
  
"We will depart for Ostagar as soon as you are ready," Duncan informed her, and a sudden sadness came over her. The tower was the only home she had really known her entire life. Leaving was going to be such a drastic change for her that she wasn't sure how well she was going to be able to handle it.  
  
"The Circle never forgets its apprentices, child," Irving told her, almost as if he could tell what she was thinking, and laid a hand upon her shoulder the way he had so many times over the years when she had been frightened or unsure about something. "The Grey Wardens will be your family now, but you shall always have a home here."  
  
"Thank you, First Enchanter," she said, and the templar standing next to her moved in even closer.  
  
"Right then, enough with this mush," she remarked, grasping Varia's arm roughly. "The Knight-Commander wants you out of the castle as soon as possible, so let's go get your things packed and you can be on your way."  
  
Rylock didn't give her a chance to say anything else. She immediately pulled her away from Irving and Duncan and led her upstairs to her new quarters so she could pack her things.  
  
"A word of advice, mage," she added as they neared their destination, and Varia looked at the other woman, dreading what she was about to say. "Ostagar isn't a short trip. Pack only what's necessary."  
  
Varia wondered if she was attempting to be nice, but the tone of her voice told her otherwise. She was probably hoping that any heavy, valuable objects would be left behind to become property of the chantry and sold off. Unfortunately, she seemed to forget that mages weren't allowed much in the way of personal possessions and – even if they had been – Varia had been brought to the tower with nothing but the clothes on her back and the shoes on her tiny feet.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Cullen's question pulled her attention back ahead of her, and she blinked in surprise at seeing him standing in her room, apparently having been awaiting her arrival.  
  
"I heard about what happened with Jowan," he continued, going over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders as he looked her over for injuries. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"  
  
Rylock cleared her throat loudly, alerting Cullen to her presence, and he released Varia as he looked at his fellow templar with no small amount of disdain in his eyes.  
  
"You can go, Rylock," he told her firmly, nodding toward the door.  
  
"I cannot," Rylock replied, leaning back comfortably against the wall next to the door. "This one's going to the Wardens. I've been ordered by the Knight-Commander to watch over her while she packs to make sure she doesn't do anything... _suspicious_."  
  
Varia carefully observed the exchange between the two of them. Cullen had told her how much he disliked the lone female templar of the tower, saying that while she had supposedly been hired to give the female mages a sense of security she was just as vehemently opposed to the mages as most of the other templars in the tower were – and almost as abusive of her power.  
  
She immediately noticed the shock on his face when he heard she was going to become a Warden, because he also knew that meant she would likely never return to the tower. Varia wanted to comfort him right then and there, kiss him and tell him she loved him and she would be back someday.  The look he gave her as Rylock continued talking about her orders told her that he had been contemplating the same thing she had earlier when they stole that kiss in this very room. They would have truly become lovers that night, if things had transpired differently throughout the day.  
  
"I can make sure she stays out of trouble," he assured Rylock, his eyes never leaving Varia's. They didn't have enough time to consummate their relationship, but at least they could share one final, brief moment together and have a proper goodbye kiss.  
  
"Not a chance," Rylock laughed, and Varia looked over at the woman to find her smiling wickedly at the two of them. "Everyone knows you're sweet on this one, Cullen. I'm not giving you the opportunity to defile the Maker's name and your vows to Him for the sake of your lust."  
  
Cullen sighed and took a step back from Varia, lowering his head in shame, and Varia couldn't help but wonder if what Rylock had said was true. Did all of the other templars truly have an inkling of what was going on between them? Had he _already_ gotten into trouble because of his relationship with her? He'd never indicated that was the case, before. Perhaps he had simply been trying to protect her or spare her unnecessary worry.  
  
"Can I at least stay here while she packs?" he requested after a brief silence. "Please?"  
  
"Well, since you asked so nicely, I supposed I could let you stay," Rylock agreed, acting like she was doing him some great favor out of the kindness in her heart – kindness which both Varia and Cullen knew didn't exist when it came to mages.  
  
"But no touching," she added.  
  
Cullen nodded sullenly and Varia went to the trunk at the foot of her bed to begin packing her things. A leather satchel had already been laid out upon the bed for her to place her belongings in, and she was surprised at how small it was. With a sigh, she opened the trunk and knelt down on the floor to choose the things she would need the most on her journey.  
  
"So you're going to be a Warden?" Cullen asked casually.  
  
Varia knew that tone of voice. It was the one he always used when they spoke in the presence of others. They had come to be able to read each other's expressions so well that they knew exactly what was truly being said under the words they spoke. This time, however, her back was to him and she couldn't see his face to read his underlying message to her. Still, she fully understood what he was saying. His heart was no doubt in the same state as her own, after all. He might have asked her if she was to become a Warden, but what he was really saying was, 'I don't want you to go.'  
  
"After what happened with Jowan, there's no reason left for me to stay here," she told him.  
  
_'I wish I could stay, if only for you.'_  
  
"Must be exciting. You'll be able to travel and see the world. No more being stuck in this dusty, old tower."  
  
_'Will you ever come back?'_  
  
"I suppose," Varia replied, digging her grimoire out from under the other things in her trunk and standing to pack it in her bag. "But this tower has been my home for most of my life."  
  
_'I will do whatever it takes to make sure that I do come back, someday.'_  
  
"The Wardens fight the darkspawn, right?" Cullen asked. "I hear that's dangerous work."  
  
_'Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't want you to get hurt.'_  
  
"It is," Varia said, removing the extra set of robes from Anders' package and adding them into her pack with some other clothes. "I'm sure everything I've learned here will be of great help, though."  
  
_'Don't worry, love. I'll have the thought of you to keep me going.'_  
  
Varia heard Cullen move closer to her as she packed away a good number of lyrium potions and healing poultices into her pack. His hand came down to rest gently upon her back as she carefully secured the fastenings on the leather bag, and she had to fight the urge to turn around and throw herself into his arms.  
  
"If anything happens to you, Varia..." he said, his voice quiet and full of barely-suppressed emotions, the ruse forgotten. He had said almost the same words to her earlier that day, and she could still imagine the painful images his mind was conjuring up. Those images were the reason why she had chosen to join the Wardens rather than remain and tempt fate.  
  
"Cullen, I..." She turned around as she spoke, and his hand slid from her back to her waist. For a moment, she forgot that they weren't alone and she reached up to brush her fingers through his hair. His eyes fell closed and a shaky sigh escaped his lips, causing a lump to form in her throat.  
  
"I said, _no_ touching!" Rylock reminded them, and Varia cursed the woman in the back of her head. She had been watching them this entire time, and yet she waited until the two of them were at their most emotionally vulnerable to tear them apart.  
  
"You about packed yet, mage?" she asked, the word 'mage' dripping with disdain.  
  
"I am," Varia replied, gathering up her pack off the bed. She looked over to Cullen once more and started to reach out for him, but pulled her hand back and instead quietly made her way to the door.  
  
"Varia," he called after her just as she was about to leave, and she turned to look at him.  
  
"Maker watch over you," he told her, and this time she could read his expression loud and clear.  
  
_'I love you.'_  
  
Varia forced a smile, swallowing back her tears, and nodded once before speaking.  
  
"May He watch over you, as well."  
  
_'I love you, too.'_  
  
"Come on, we haven't got all night," Rylock complained, and Varia once more found herself being dragged away through the hallways of the tower by her arm. She stumbled a couple of times along the way, and Rylock only tugged her arm harder, making her wince at the pain. This was certainly not something she would miss once she was away from the Circle.  
  
"I can take it from here," Duncan told the templar when they reached the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed Rylock by the arm much in the same fashion she had a hold of Varia's, and Varia noticed a somewhat sinister gleam in the older man's dark eyes. Rylock huffed in indignation and shoved her toward him, then turned and made her way back up to the second floor.  
  
"I hope she did not hurt you?" Duncan wondered, gently grasping Varia's shoulders and helping her regain her balance.  
  
"I'll probably have some hand-shaped bruises on my arm by morning," she replied, moving her arm and frowning at the pain that lingered where the templar's metal-covered fingers had dug into her flesh. "Other than that, I should be just fine."  
  
"Good," Duncan said, taking her pack from her and holding out a heavy cloak. "You should put this on. Fereldan nights can be quite cold, this time of year."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She put on the cloak as she followed him through the empty library where the apprentices studied, thinking about how she and Jowan used to take lessons together in that very room. They passed through the corridor connecting the library to the main hall, and she remembered how Cullen had once caught her in passing and kissed her right there in the open before going along his way as if nothing had happened. She couldn't stand to look at the main hall as they passed through, the memory of what had just transpired there still fresh in her mind, but when they reached the area where the apprentices' dormitories were located she couldn't help but recall how just one night prior she had been awakened by her mentor and taken for her Harrowing.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Duncan asked, and she turned to look at him quizzically for a moment before realizing she had stopped outside the door of her former living quarters.  
  
"I... was just thinking how much has changed so quickly," she told him. "Yesterday, I was still nothing more than an apprentice. Now I'm a fully-fledged mage who is about to become a Grey Warden."  
  
"You needn't worry," Duncan assured her. "I know you will do well as a Warden, and you shall do the Circle proud."  
  
Varia gave him a weak smile, and the two of them continued along their way. She stopped walking once more when they reached the entryway of the tower, however, and looked about curiously.  
  
"Where's Irving?" she asked. She had expected that he would be there to see her off, but the only other people in the room besides her and Duncan were the two templars who had been posted at the door in replacement of the ones Jowan had attacked.  
  
"Greagoir came back while you were gone and demanded to speak with him in his office," Duncan informed her. "Irving protested, of course. He wanted a chance to say goodbye, after all, but Greagoir would hear nothing of it. He _did_ ask me to tell you something, but that is best saved for once we are away from here."  
  
Varia wasn't sure why Irving would insist that his message not be relayed to her until _after_ she had left the tower, but then Duncan cast a meaningful glance toward the guards nearby and she understood. Whatever it was Irving had said was not to be heard by templar ears.  
  
"Let's be on our way, then," she said, walking past him and over to the large doors leading to the outside world she hadn't seen in over a decade.  
  
The two guards unlocked the doors and opened them, and a chilly breeze caught her in the face. She held the cloak Duncan had given her tightly around her small frame, glad that he had been kind enough to think of her comfort while traveling. The two of them stepped out silently into the night, and she heard the heavy doors fall closed behind them as she looked up at the sky. It had been almost a year since she last saw the stars, and the beauty of them twinkling against their dark backdrop left her breathless for a moment until Duncan gently nudged her toward the path leading to the small dock at the foot of the cliff the tower stood upon.  
  
"Evenin', Warden," the ferryman greeted them as they reached the dock, his boat tied up next to where he was standing. "And who is this you..."  
  
His words trailed off when he turned to look at Varia, and he suddenly broke out in a grin as his eyes lit up with recognition.  
  
"My word, it's you! How have you been, dear girl?" he asked, reaching out and taking one of her hands in both of his. Varia blinked, confused why the man was greeting her as if they were old friends.  
  
"I'm sorry, I think you must have mistaken me for someone else," she told him, and his face fell in disappointment.  
  
"I suppose I shouldn't expect you'd remember me," he said, releasing her hand. "You was just a little girl the last time we met, after all. But Irving always talked about you when I would ferry him back and forth. I daresay the old man cared about you like you were his own flesh and blood.  
  
"Anyway, my name's Kester, seein' as you don't remember," he introduced himself, giving her a slight bow. "I shall be taking you and the Warden here back over to the mainland."  
  
Kester climbed aboard his boat and Duncan followed him, then set Varia's pack down before turning to offer her a hand into the small vessel. She carefully boarded, holding up the long cloak so she didn't trip and end up falling overboard into the water or – worse still – overturning the entire boat, then took a seat next to Duncan, facing the tower. The boat began to make its way slowly across the lake, and she watched as her home gradually became father and farther away from her.  
  
Her life, as she knew it, was over.


	8. The Road to Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan and Varia make their way to Ostagar, but first Duncan informs her of what Irving's true intentions had been back at the tower... and he also reveals that a story she'd been hearing all her days as a mage is actually real.

 

 

**Chapter Eight**  
  
Not another word passed through Varia's lips as she and Duncan continued on their short journey across Lake Calenhad and away from Kinloch Hold. Once they reached the dock on the other side, she continued to remain silent while Duncan helped her to dry land. He then thanked Kester for rowing them across before gathering her pack from the boat and leading her toward a small tavern nearby. An old, weather-worn sign swayed back and forth above the entry door, the words The Spoiled Princess scrawled across the decaying wood in a barely-legible script.  
  
"I have a room here," Duncan told her, which explained the lack of his own pack full of belongings. "We'll get a good night's rest, and then be off at first light."  
  
Varia simply nodded and followed him into the tavern, her mind still reeling from the events of the day which had transpired. Out of everything that had happened, two distinct statements kept repeating themselves in the back of her mind: ' _Jowan is a blood mage_ ' and ' _I might never see Cullen again_.' She looked up wearily once they stepped into the warmer environment of the tavern to take in her new surroundings just as the barkeep called out them.  
  
"Welcome back, War--" His voice suddenly cut off mid-greeting when Varia lowered her hood.  
  
"Pardon my asking, ser, but what is _she_ doing here?" he questioned Duncan, turning viciously-narrowed eyes toward the tall man at her side.  
  
"She is my newest recruit," Duncan politely answered, but she could hear a slight edge beneath his well-mannered tone. "I hope there will not be a problem with her spending the night with me here before we move on in the morning."  
  
"I suppose not," the innkeeper said, eying her with contempt. The look on his face brought back a memory of one of her first days at the tower, and she gently grasped Duncan's arm and moved to stand a bit behind him much like she had done with Irving that day.  
  
"I want to make it clear that you two are to be gone tomorrow, though," he warned, shaking a stern finger at them before picking up a glass to wipe it down with a dirty rag. "I don't want her kind in here, scarin' off my best patrons."  
  
Varia almost asked the man, 'What patrons?' From where she was standing, she had a full view of the tavern and aside from her and Duncan the only other people in the room were a dwarven woman standing near the bar – likely the serving girl – and a man in the corner who had passed out drunk and was sprawled across the top of his table.  
  
"I understand," Duncan replied in his deep voice, bowing slightly to the man and nodding for her to follow him. She quietly stepped in his wake, but glanced back at the innkeeper as they began going up the stairs to the room Duncan had rented. She was surprised to see the man's loathing gaze had turned to one of fear, and when he noticed her looking at him he immediately turned back to his work.  
  
"I suppose Anders was right," she said as Duncan unlocked the door to one of the two rooms above the tavern. "People really do fear us, out here."  
  
"As well they should," Duncan remarked as his dark eyes met her lighter gaze. "I have no doubt in my mind that you are one of the most powerful mages currently alive in Thedas. In fact, I knew from the first time I saw you just how talented you would turn out to be."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked him, standing stock still in the doorway while he went into the room and placed her pack on a chair in the far corner, next to what she assumed to be his own. Duncan simply turned to her, motioning for her to enter, and after a moment she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her before placing her staff against the wall and turning to him expectantly.  
  
"I was there that day," he informed her, leaning against the wall across from the bed. Varia walked over to the small pallet and sat down, not quite sure she understood what he meant. He was there _what_ day?  
  
"I saw what you did to that bandit in the woods," he clarified at her confused look and things suddenly clicked into place. He was speaking of the incident the other enchanters had always whispered about behind her back: the day she had supposedly killed a man.  
  
"It's just a rumor," she denied it, shaking her head from side to side. "It's a story the other mages in the tower concocted because they were jealous of the amount of attention the First Enchanter paid me."  
  
"No, Varia," Duncan corrected her, his tone firm but kind. "You were dragged into the woods by a bandit and you killed him with your magic."  
  
"No," she continued in her denial, standing up and putting herself as far away from where he was standing as she could. She kept her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself to keep from shaking.  
  
"I saw everything," Duncan told her, his voice growing closer as he spoke. "I had been traveling in those woods on my way to Redcliffe on personal business, when I saw that man dragging you through the trees by the collar of your dress. I knew what he would do to you, and so I was going to stop him – but I never got the chance. You screamed and a bolt of lightning shot from your hands and coursed through his entire body. He was dead on the ground by the time I reached him."  
  
Varia's grey eyes filled with tears and she suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could and shook her head, attempting to dispel the words Duncan had said like they were some sort of evil curse. She _did_ _not_ kill someone. She couldn't have. There was no way her magic could have possibly been that strong, not at that young age.  
  
"You were under great duress," Duncan continued, resting a hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. "It is not your fault."  
  
She flinched away from his touch, leaning forward against the wall and breathing in rapid, shallow gasps. _No, no, no_... The word repeated itself over and over in her head. She was a murderer. She was the worst sort of all mages, one who had used her power to harm another living soul. She was what the Chantry warned them about, what the templars said they were all capable of but she had never believed herself able to do. She was a monster.  
  
"That is no excuse," she choked out after a long silence had passed between them. "I killed a man. Maker, how did they ever see fit to allow me to live?"  
  
"Because you were a helpless, frightened child," Duncan replied. "If you had not killed that man, do you think he would have spared you? He would have had his evil way with you and then left you for dead if he didn't simply slit your throat when he was finished with you. And he likely would never have been caught and tried."  
  
"But you were there, too?" she said, turning her tear-streaked face to look at him. "You were going to stop him?"  
  
"Yes." Duncan nodded. "I would have done my best to reach you before he did anything to hurt you, and I would have killed him for trying to rape a child."  
  
"So you're no different from me, then?" she asked. "You're a killer, too."  
  
"When I must be, yes," he told her, his dark eyes somber. "But I do my best not to kill innocent people. That man, however, was _far_ from innocent. Once I reached Redcliffe, I heard about what he and his friends had done to your mother and father--"  
  
"What did they do?" she blurted out, cutting him off. "Please... I need to know. I don't remember anything about them. Are they still alive?"  
  
"Your father was killed that day, my child," he informed her, reaching up with one of his large hands to soothingly stroke her hair, and for a moment he once again reminded her of Irving. "Your mother was violated, just as that man you killed had intended to do to you. As far as I know, however, she still lives. Arl Eamon gave her a position on his serving staff after the incident, in fact."  
  
"She's alive?" Varia asked, her eyes going wide with hope. "Do you think I might be able to see her again someday?"  
  
"Perhaps," Duncan told her, nodding slightly. "I cannot promise it, though. The life of a Warden is a lonely, solitary existence. We forsake all of our family and friends to follow this noble calling. For that is what is is: a calling, a duty which cannot be forsworn. After this Blight is dealt with, however... Perhaps we can try to visit her at the arl's castle."  
  
Varia smiled gratefully at him then, her sorrow at her own actions replaced with happiness that he was at least willing to consider taking her to see her mother. Every time she had asked about visiting her parents while in the Circle, she had been told – not very kindly, by most people – that it was impossible. The fact that he would even entertain the idea gave her hope. The smile fell from her face as quickly as it had formed, however, when she remembered what Anders and Jowan had said about their parents' reactions to them having magic. Jowan's mother had shunned him and called him a monster while Anders' father had wrenched him from his mother's arms himself and gladly handed him over to the templars. It seemed most parents of the other mages she had known at the tower had been glad to be rid of their 'cursed' children, with the exception of the Amell siblings. All of them had been gifted with magic, and all of them had been torn away from parents who loved them and wanted nothing more than to keep them close and have them live a normal life.  
  
Life wasn't normal when you were a mage, though. She knew that very well. The past fifteen minutes had opened her eyes and showed her that people really _did_ consider them all monsters who could not control their power – and that it was a fear which had been well-earned. What if her own mother had hated her just as much as Jowan's did? What if they went to Redcliffe and the moment she set eyes upon her child for the first time in more than ten years she got that same look in her eyes that Varia had seen in the eyes of the innkeeper downstairs?  
  
"Maybe I shouldn't go," she quietly said, turning away from Duncan as her eyes once more filled with tears. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if she thinks I'm a monster."  
  
"Your mother cried when were taken to the tower," Duncan informed her. "I do not doubt for a second that she would be overjoyed to hold you in her arms once again. After all, you are all she has left of her departed husband."  
  
"You were there for _that_ , too?" she asked him with a small laugh. The man was certainly a busy-body with a strangely good sense of timing if he happened to witness not one but _two_ of the most life-changing events in her childhood.  
  
"I had business at the arl's castle, and I was leaving just as the First Enchanter arrived. I spoke to him briefly about you and then I hid in the shadows to observe as he tested you and then took you to live and study at the tower."  
  
"I'm guessing it wasn't a coincidence at all, then, that you were at the tower today of all days, was it?"  
  
She looked at him over her shoulder with a slight smile, and he chuckled deep in his throat.  
  
"No, it was no coincidence. In fact, Irving had been planning this day for some time... the past few months, at least."  
  
"But why have me taken away so soon after my Harrowing?" she asked, shaking her head. "Or was my Harrowing delayed by Greagoir's meddling?"  
  
Duncan sighed and went to stand against the wall across from the bed once more, running a hand over his tired face with a sigh. "Perhaps you should sit down. It appears I have much to explain to you about what has been going on at the tower."  
  
Varia raised a curious eyebrow, but did not speak. She simply returned to where she had been sitting on the bed and took a seat, watching him expectantly like a child waiting for a bedtime story from their father.  
  
"You were romantically involved with a templar, Cullen," he began, and her posture immediately stiffened as her heart began to race in a panic. "Irving knew this. He kept his silence, however, for your sake as well as that of your beau – but only because he knew the relationship had not yet progressed to the point of intimacy. As far as he was concerned, the two of you could kiss all you want and it wasn't a breach of the vows he had made."  
  
"He knew... All along, he _knew_ about us?" she whispered, wrapping her head around the notion. How had he known? Had he caught them together? Had they simply been too obvious while interacting with one another? No matter how it happened, he had figured it out just as she feared. But Duncan also said Irving had been covering for them. Perhaps she had misjudged him, once more.  
  
"He loves you like a daughter, you know," Duncan's voice broke through her thoughts. "He has always wanted you to be happy. Well... as happy as one can be living in that tower," he added, not even trying to hide his disgust at the memory of the things the mages he had fought with over the years had told him about life in the Circles. "So when the templars started talking, when rumors started to get around that one of the knights was in love with a mage... He knew he had to act because it would only be a matter of time before they figured out that Cullen was the knight in question and you were the mage he was in love with.  
  
"The original plan was to have you take your Harrowing, and then I would recruit you a week or two later – after you and Cullen had the chance to... consummate your love."  
  
Varia blushed and when she glanced at Duncan she was surprised to see a pink tinge on his cheeks, as well. He was an older man, and he certainly must have had a fair amount of experience in that area with women. Still, it appeared he wasn't as comfortable with talking about it as others might be.  
  
_A gentleman_ , she thought, smiling a bit. _He seems the type_.  
  
"All that had to change, however, when Uldred informed Irving about his suspicions that Jowan was practicing blood magic."  
  
"Wait," Varia interrupted, holding up a hand to keep him from continuing with his explanation of the recent events in her life. " _Uldred_ was the one who went to Irving about Jowan? Not Greagoir?"  
  
"From what I understand, Uldred went to him first with the suspicion that _someone_ was practicing blood magic. Greagoir was the person who put a name to the rumors."  
  
"But they weren't just rumors," Varia quietly corrected him.  
  
"No," Duncan said with a sigh. "Irving had hoped they were, though."  
  
"He really was willing to make an innocent mage tranquil, then?" she wondered.  
  
"He had no choice, you know that. The Chantry was forcing his hand. So he did what he had to in order to put you into a positive position so he could avoid losing you, as well."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Once Greagoir confirmed that you were the mage involved with Cullen, he would have sent you away to one of the other Circles, most likely the one in Kirkwall," Duncan informed her, his face grim.  
  
Varia swallowed thickly. She knew all about the Kirkwall Circle. Anders' friend Karl had been sent there a few years ago, and from what Anders told her about the things Karl said in his letters, the place sounded worse than the Void, itself. It had once been a prison, called The Gallows, and the Chantry hadn't done much in the way of converting it into decent living quarters for the mages. They were locked up in their cells at night – like actual prisoners – and treated about as badly as the convicts who had once been housed there. Samson, the templar who Cullen had been brought in to replace, had been sent to The Gallows in order to get 'straightened out' after Greagoir had decided he was being too nice to the mages at Kinloch Hold. It was apparent that even the templars acknowledged the rigidity of Order's rule over their charges there.  
  
No... Varia certainly wouldn't have wanted to end up at the Kirkwall Circle.  
  
"So now you see why Irving did what he did?" Duncan asked her.  
  
"I'm beginning to," she replied, turning over everything he had told her so far in her mind.  
  
"He was going to lose Jowan, no matter what. Greagoir would have surely seen to that. Whether or not he lost _you_ , as well, depended upon your involvement with Jowan's plans."  
  
"So," she said, then paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "Irving knew Jowan and Lily were planning to escape together, somehow. He also knew Jowan would most likely confide in me and ask for my help, and that I would then go to him seeking his help, in turn. Am I on the right track?"  
  
"So far, yes," Duncan confirmed with a nod.  
  
"He forced me to help catch Jowan so that when Greagoir realized I was Cullen's... um... sweetheart, he could point out how I'd helped apprehend a blood mage and convince him to let me stay in Ferelden."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Only Jowan turned out to actually _be_ a blood mage, and instead of assisting in his capture, I ended up aiding in his escape," Varia concluded, a rueful smile on her face. "And so you had no choice but to conscript me then and there rather than giving Cullen and I some time together before you took me away from the tower for what will most likely be forever."  
  
Duncan did not miss the bitterness in her final statement. She wasn't the first recruit he'd taken with him who resented him for it. He knew she expected him to apologize, but he couldn't. There was nothing he needed to apologize for. He had simply done his job. The fact that he had taken her from her home and the man she loved was of no consequence to him.  
  
"Being a Warden means doing whatever is necessary for the greater good," he explained to her, his tone sympathetic, but firm. "I don't expect you to understand that, right now, but in time you will. Going back to the earlier topic of our conversation: I decided that day I witnessed your power in the woods that I wanted you for the Wardens once you were older and had taken your Harrowing. I wish that you could have had longer to experience the life of a fully-fledged mage within the Circle before I had to recruit you but, as I have already said several times, there is a Blight coming and we don't have the luxury of time on our side."  
  
"In that case, perhaps we shouldn't wait until morning to get started on the road," Varia remarked. She stood from the bed and went over to where he had placed her pack, then adjusted the straps before hoisting it up onto her shoulders.  
  
"Traveling at night is not wise in these parts," Duncan warned her, remaining against the wall rather than moving to gather his own supplies. "There are many wild animals in the woods around here, and they will be using the darkness to their advantage in for hunting prey."  
  
"I thought being a Warden meant doing whatever is necessary for the greater good," she replied as she went to retrieve her staff from its place by the door. "Surely, it would be in the best interest of _the greater good_ if we were to arrive in Ostagar as soon as possible. You seem strong, in spite of your age, so I doubt you're really afraid for your own hide when it comes to whatever nasty little beasties might be stalking the forest. Maybe you're just afraid of the dark, then? I have fire for that, you know."  
  
"It is _your_ hide I am concerned with," he informed her, earning himself an icy glare. "You may be a powerful mage, but even _you_ have your limits. You would be no good to the Wardens if you were to end up gutted and gnawed upon by a wolf on the side of the road."  
  
"I've brought plenty of lyrium potions with me," she assured him, though he could see her resolve waver slightly at his mention of what might happen to her. "And healing poultices, should either of us be injured. I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. We might as well get on the road, yes? The sooner we arrive, the better, correct?"  
  
Duncan continued to hold her gaze, attempting to intimidate her with the hardness in his dark eyes, but she refused to back down. Her hand on her hip, a single golden eyebrow raised, her foot tapping impatiently, she eyed him with an unspoken dare.  
  
"Very well, you are right," Duncan finally agreed. He went over to the chair to gather his own pack, securing it on his back in a way that his daggers would still be at hand should he need them to fight off any unwanted enemies. "If we get on the road now, and stop only very briefly to eat here and there, then we should make it to the ruins by mid-day."  
  
"Then let's go," Varia said before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. She heard him follow her back down into the tavern, and was relieved the find that the owner had either retired for the night or had simply ducked into the back room. She really didn't want to have another confrontation with the man, because only the Maker knew what sort of words might come out of her mouth if he so much as made another off-handed comment about her. Duncan laid the key for the room on top of the bar, and they shuffled through the empty tables toward the door.  
  
"Come back any time!" the dwarven barmaid called to them without looking up from where she was sitting at the bar, working on some sort of wood carving.  
  
Varia simply stepped out into the night and sighed, her breath coming out in a puff of steam. She then pulled the cloak's hood back up over her head to protect her sensitive ears from the cold air and tapped her staff gently on the ground. Immediately, a glowing orb appeared at the end of the weapon, providing them the light they would need to travel by through the dark wooded area at the top of the nearby hill. If the cold became too unbearable, she would conjure fire in her hand to help her stay warm. But, for now, she decided it was best to reserve her mana lest they really encounter some dangerous creatures she would need to help Duncan fight off.  
  
With a final look to the Warden, the two of them set off on their path to Ostagar.

* * *

  
  
"There it is," Duncan told her when they crested a hill just as the day was breaking. "The ruins of Ostagar."  
  
Varia stepped up next to him and her breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes upon the valley stretching out before them. There were more trees than she had ever thought possible in that one area, as if the entire land mass was just made up of nothing but the forest – no earth, no grass, simply the branches reaching up out of the ground to sway in the light breeze sweeping through the valley. Within the thick forest there were several buildings, and even from a distance she could tell they were in various states of dilapidation.  The only structure which still appeared fairly intact was a single spire located near the center of the ruins.  
  
Duncan held a hand out to her and she placed her smaller hand in his. He carefully led her down the opposite side of the hill, his own steps steady and sure as she stumbled and slid down the steep and rocky ground. At one point, she slipped and fell into him, and he let out a deep chuckle as he caught her and set her upright. Eventually they made it to a level path leading toward the ruins, and they decided to take a break and have something to eat before continuing on the final leg of their journey.  
  
"I apologize for my callousness last night," Duncan remarked as he dug through his pack for the rations he'd brought. After a moment, he produced two skins of water and some dried fruit and handed some of each to her. "It's been a very long time since my own recruitment into the Wardens. I've forgotten what it's like to be thrust into a life you never wanted and a world you know nothing about."  
  
"It's all right," Varia replied, taking a small bite of one of the pieces of dried fruit he had given her. "I apologize, as well. I have no idea what would have become of me if you hadn't been there to step in the way you did. I owe you my life, and for that I'm thankful. I promise to do my best to serve the Wardens diligently, as is expected of me."  
  
Duncan nodded in acceptance of her apology, but he hadn't missed the sad look in her eyes. She might have been swearing her loyalty to the Wardens, but he knew she was simply resigning herself to her fate. He made a mental note to be sure she was sent back to the Circle on a regular basis to scout for recruits in order to give her an opportunity to visit with the people she cared about. A small voice at the back of his mind reminded him that it wasn't the way they did things and that there was still a chance she might not even survive her Joining, but he pushed it aside.  
  
"Where are we, anyway?" Varia asked after they had finished eating and once more started toward the ruins, taking in their surroundings with child-like wonder. "I never could have imagined a place with so many trees even existing."  
  
"We are on the edge of the Korcari Wilds," Duncan informed her. "The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's rather fitting that we make our stand here, even if we face a different foe within that forest."  
  
"So the darkspawn are _already_ here?" Varia asked, her voice pitching upward slightly in worry.  
  
"The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times," he replied. "Here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here. And we can all feel the horde approaching like a great swarm. The Blight _must_ be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall."  
  
Varia followed him quietly the rest of the way, turning his words over and over in her head. Things sounded much more dire than he had originally let on when she spoke to him at Kinloch Hold. Before, he had led her to believe that the Blight hadn't even started, but now it was quite apparent that it had not only already begun, but that it was going to get much, _much_ worse if they were unable to put an end to it quickly. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't even break her silence when a small pack of rabid wolves attacked them. She simply let loose a chain of lightning to disable them – deciding to forgo her usual fire spells for fear of setting the entire forest around them ablaze – while Duncan went from one to the next and made quick work of them with his dagger and sword. It was a pattern they had immediately fallen into during the occasional scuffles they'd had their journey from Lake Callenhad, and Varia had been quite impressed with how easily he avoided the brunt of her spells. He'd mentioned before that there were other mages in the Wardens, though, so she should have known he'd be well aware how to properly fight alongside those whose primary weapon was magic.  
  
By the time they finally reached the ruins of Ostagar, the sun was already hanging high in the clear blue sky above them. Varia closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the feeling of the warm rays on her face while Duncan greeted the two guards who had been posted at the makeshift gate which was blocking their entry into the rest of the ruins, then continued following him after the gate had been opened to allow them to pass.  
  
"Ho there, Duncan!"  
  
Varia looked past her companion and saw a young man in finely-crafted gold armor walking toward them with a huge grin on his face. His blue eyes sparkled as he and Duncan shook hands in greeting.  
  
"King Cailan? I didn't expect--"  
  
"A royal welcome?" Cailan completed the thought for him, casting a brief glance in her direction before addressing the Warden once more. "Some of the scouts said they spotted you two approaching from the Wilds. I wanted to be the first to welcome you. I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"  
  
"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty," Duncan replied, his tone somewhere between amused and annoyed.  
  
"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all!" the king boasted, patting the older man's shoulder before releasing his hand, his smile even wider than it had been before. "Glorious!  
  
"The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit," he continued, moving closer to Varia and looking her over. "I take it this is she?"  
  
Varia lowered her eyes to her hands, her face turning very hot under the man's gaze. He was the king, the ruler of all Ferelden, and here she was – a lowly elf and a mage, to boot. To be put under his scrutiny was even more stressful than finding out she was being taken for her Harrowing had been.  
  
"Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty," Duncan offered.  
  
"No need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together, after all," Cailan lightly chastised him, chuckling a bit. "Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?"  
  
It took Varia a moment to realize she was being addressed, and she briefly looked up to the king before quickly averting her gaze once more. She wasn't normally one to be so shy when meeting somebody new, but it was almost as if there was some sort of deep-rooted instinct within her which prevented her from fully making eye contact with the king.  
  
"I am Varia, Your Majesty," she answered quietly, bowing in respect.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Cailan asked her.  
  
"No, Your Majesty," Varia assured him, shaking her head.  
  
Cailan made a thoughtful sound and took another step closer to her, bowing his head to the side in order to catch her gaze with his own. When she finally met his eyes, he flashed her his most charming smile.  
  
"A lovely young mage such as yourself shouldn't hide her face," he told her with a wink, earning himself a confused look from her. "Duncan has informed me of your situation. You need not worry, I won't yell or berate you. I'm glad you decided to come back with him."  
  
Varia felt herself blush even more, but she stopped hiding her face and instead properly took him in. He was maybe ten years older than her, with hair the color of the sun and one of the handsomest faces she had ever seen. Despite the easy-gong smile, he had a regal air about him but it wasn't as oppressive as she had originally imagined it. She supposed her years of being around the templars had conditioned her to think that anyone wearing heavy armor was bound to speak abusively toward her, but it seemed the king was a far cry from those brutes.  
  
"Thank you, Your Majesty," she told him, a small smile pulling at her lips.  
  
"The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?"  
  
"I am only recently out of my apprenticehood, but I promise I shall do my best," Varia assured him, her confidence slowly returning.  
  
"Excellent," Cailan replied, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "We have too few mages here, another is always welcome. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."  
  
"You're too kind, Your Majesty," Varia mumbled, biting her lip to keep from giggling like a little girl. She'd heard stories of the king and his father before him, how they were both handsome men who made women swoon with their good looks and well-placed compliments, but she had never dreamed that she would ever be on the receiving end of such attention from a member of the legendary line of Calenhad the Great. Cailan's smile once more grew before finally falling as he let go of her shoulder with a sigh and turned to Duncan.  
  
"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with more of his strategies."  
  
"Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week," Duncan told him, causing Cailan to let out a short bark of laughter.  
  
"Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've already won three battles against these monsters and the next should be no different. I'm not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon."  
  
"Disappointed, Your Majesty?" Duncan asked, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales!" Cailan said wistfully, staring off into the distance with a dreamy look on his face. "A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do."  
  
He sighed and gave them both a slight bow, which Duncan and Varia returned. "I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!"  
  
Varia had quietly watched the exchange between the two men, and she didn't miss the fact Duncan had been in Redcliffe before arriving at the Circle, visiting with the arl. Which meant he'd been in the very castle where her mother was now employed. So why had he told her he didn't know whether or not her mother still lived? She supposed it was simply a matter of him only being there a short amount of time, though. After all, there were likely to be numerous servants at the castle and he really would have had no reason to seek out or inquire about the well-being of a single elven maid.  
  
"What the king said is true," Duncan told her once Cailan and his personal guard were out of earshot. "They've won several battles against the darkspawn here."  
  
"And yet you don't sound very reassured," Varia remarked, noting the deep worry lines on his face.  
  
Duncan sighed and began walking in the direction the king had gane, and Varia followed him. He remained quiet for a couple of minutes as they passed through what appeared to have once been some sort of courtyard before a grand ramp which led to another courtyard. Beyond that, she could see the tower she'd spotted before, rising high into the sky. They eventually reached a long bridge and Duncan stopped, turning to address her once more.  
  
"Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us. I _know_ there is an archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feelings."  
  
"Why not?" Varia wondered. "He seems to regard the Wardens highly. Surely, he respects you enough to take you at your word on these things?"  
  
"He does not wish to wait for reinforcements to arrive from the Grey Wardens of Orlais," Duncan explained, and she once more noticed the annoyed tone in his voice. "He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable. Never mind that our numbers in Ferelden are too few. No... Cailan is a good king, and a good man, but he is not a skilled military strategist. So we must do what we can and look to Teryn Loghain to make up the difference."  
  
"Loghain? The Hero of River Dane?" Varia had heard the stories about him while growing up, mostly from the other children who used to argue about who would win in a brawl between him and King Maric. He was a legendary leader, a man who was well-respected by the entire nation as the one who had helped Maric free Ferelden from Orlesian rule and return the rightful line to the throne. Maric had thanked him for his help by raising him up from a commoner to a Teryn, the second-highest rank in nobility below the royal family, itself. It was a story which every child of common blood adored because it gave them hope – no matter how false that hope might be – that they, too, could one day make something greater of themselves and their lives.  
  
"One and the same," Duncan replied with a nod. "To that end, however, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay."  
  
"What do you mean? _What_ ritual?"  
  
"Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden. The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon."  
  
She had assumed that becoming a Grey Warden entailed nothing more than swearing an oath, but apparently there was much more to it than that and now she was beginning to have second thoughts. She had _just_ undergone her Harrowing, and now she was being asked to take part in _another_ secret ritual in order to join the Grey Wardens. The Harrowing had been taxing enough on her body, and she had no idea what she would be asked to do for this 'Joining' Duncan was speaking of. She wasn't sure if she would be able to handle it.  
  
"Am I the only recruit you have?" she asked, hoping maybe if there were others she would be able to convince him to postpone her participation in this ritual in order to give herself more time to recover from her ordeal at the tower.  
  
"No, there are two others here already. They have been waiting for us to arrive."  
  
Varia let out a sigh of relief. "Wonderful. Let's get this over with, then."  
  
"Feel free to explore the camp as you wish," Duncan offered, gesturing toward the other side of the bridge. "All I ask is that you not leave it for the time being. There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need me."  
  
"Very well," Varia told him, bowing slightly, then watched him head toward the camp.  
  
It seemed strangely symbolic. As soon as she crossed that bridge, too, she would be officially starting on her journey to become a Grey Warden, for better or for worse. She still wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Duncan had chosen her and taken her from the Circle, but it was done.  
  
With a deep breath to calm her nerves, she took her first steps across the bridge.

 


	9. Tracking Down the Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia receives _way_ too much attention thanks to Anders' little gift, meets her fellow Warden recruits, runs into a familiar face from the Circle tower, and eventually tracks down the Warden she had set out find - namely, Alistair.

 

**Chapter Nine**  
  
"Hail! You must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought."  
  
Varia blinked in surprise at the guard who addressed her once she reached the far side of the long bridge stretching between the various parts of the ruins. Apparently, everyone there already knew who she was. At the very least, it seemed they all knew her purpose for being there. Of course, she should have expected that. The king had known of her, and he didn't really seem the type to keep his mouth shut about a new Grey Warden who would soon be joining them. She simply hoped that Cailan _hadn't_ regaled everyone at the camp with the stories about her past that he seemed to have been privy to.  
  
"Greetings," she said to the guard as she stepped up to him, smiling a bit nervously.  
  
"This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'd wager," the guard told her, hooking a thumb over his shoulder toward the area behind him. Varia peered around him and saw dozens of people milling about – including soldiers, members of the king's guard, and some intimidating-looking men with their faces painted in a strange sort of fashion. There were even a few mages there, giving wide berth to a platform where a young Chantry sister was preaching to a small group of soldiers. What caught her eye the most, however, were two very large and colorful tents erected near the central bonfire. She assumed those were the ones which housed the king and General Loghain.  
  
"Need a hand getting anywhere?" the guard asked her, and she wondered for a moment at his kindness. From her personal experience, she knew that humans didn't seem to like elves very much. The only other elven mage she met the entire time she lived at the tower had told her about his time growing up in Denerim's alienage, and he had painted a picture of cruelty and abuse which seemed even worse than what the mages had to put up with from the templars, at times. At first, she thought perhaps it was simply due to the king's respect for the Grey Wardens – after all, he had probably informed all the soldiers present at the camp that he expected them to behave in an honorable, respectful manner toward the Wardens. It wasn't until she caught his eyes darting toward her legs that she realized the reason he was being so kind to her was likely because he wanted to get into her pants.  
  
_Thank you, Anders, for encouraging other men to lust after me with your fashion choices_ , she thought, rolling her eyes with a sigh before clearing her throat to bring the guard's attention back to her face.  
  
"I'm looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair," she told him, her tone businesslike.  
  
"Try heading north," the guard suggested, pointing in the direction he had seen the man go. "I think he was sent with a message to the mages."  
  
Varia thanked him and stepped around him to continue on her way, but found herself running into a tall man in a full set of shining silver armor.  
  
"Pardon me," she quickly apologized, bowing to the man.  
  
"There's no need to apologize," the man assured her, chuckling a bit. "It was my fault, really. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going, rather than focusing on these plans."  
  
She looked up and found an older man with dark hair and icy eyes standing over her, grasping some sort of half-rolled parchment in his gauntleted hands. She studied him carefully for a moment, his face seeming somehow familiar, then gasped softly when she realized just who she had run into.  
  
"General Loghain, ser," she greeted him, bowing a second time. "My apologizes. I didn't know it was you."  
  
"Didn't I just say it was my fault?" he asked her, his own eyes taking her in for a moment before he continued to speak.  
  
"You're Duncan's new Grey Warden, aren't you?" he remarked, the kindness in his voice greatly diminished. "His Majesty could not contain his excitement after your meeting."  
  
"I am, ser."  
  
"You're pretty for a Grey Warden," he added, his gaze sweeping over her in an appraising manner. "Don't let anyone tell you that you don't belong. The first Warden Maric brought to Ferelden was a woman. Best warrior I've ever seen. I don't suppose you'll be riding into the thick of battle with your fellows, will you, being a mage and all?"  
  
"I really don't know yet," Varia replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable from his comment about how pretty she was. Loghain was a well-respected man, but something about him just made her feel like something was trying to crawl up her spine – and not in a good way.  
  
"Well, I'll look for you on the battlefield," he told her, flashing a grin which she tried her best to return, but she had a feeling her smile probably looked more like a wince. "Now, I must return to my task. Pray that our king is the type to listen to reason, if you're the praying sort."  
  
"And if he doesn't?" she asked before she could stop herself.  
  
"Then simply pray," Loghain told her, his eyes cold and his expression completely unreadable. He gave her a slight bow before continuing on his way, and Varia shivered as she watch him retreating toward one of the large tents.  
  
"Alistair," she repeated the name of the Warden she was to report to under her breath, reminding herself of her own task at hand. "I need to find Alistair."  
  
She wandered over to where a small group of mages were performing some sort of group spell, thinking perhaps the one Alistair had been delivering his message to was among them, but before she could approach them to find out she was stopped by a templar.  
  
"This area is off-limits, I'm afraid," he told her, holding his hands up to block her approach. "The mages are not to be disturbed, by order of the Grey Wardens."  
  
"Could you tell me if a Warden named Alistair came by here?" Varia asked him. "I am told he was sent with a message for one of the mages."  
  
"Aye, he was here," the templar replied with a nod of his head. "The one he was looking for was up at the old ruins."  
  
"Thanks," Varia muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. The entire place was just one big ruin. How was she supposed to know exactly where she needed to go to find this Alistair? Not for the first time in her life, she wished there was a spell one could cast which would tell them where anyone was at any given time. Of course, she knew there probably already _was_ such a spell, but incantations of that sort usually involved blood magic and she was not about to turn to the most forbidden of magical arts simply to find some Grey Warden.  
  
"Well, hello there."  
  
Varia tried her best to ignore the drawling voice coming from her left as she continued to wander toward the northern part of the ruins, hoping that perhaps its owner had been attempting to draw the attention of someone else. That hope was dashed, however, when a man in leather armor with short, black hair and blue eyes stepped in front of her.  
  
"You're certainly not what I thought you'd be," he said in that same drawling voice, his eyes sliding over her form appreciatively.  
  
"And what did you think I'd be?" Varia wondered, crossing her arms over her chest with an exasperated sigh. She was going to _strangle_ Anders the next time she saw him. While his gift had been a thoughtful gesture, it was getting her far more attention than she had ever wanted from men and she suddenly found herself wishing she had her frumpy old mage robes back.  
  
"Not an elf, that's for sure. Though I ain't complaining," he replied, flashing a toothy grin. "The name's Daveth. It's about bloody time you came along, sweetheart. I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit."  
  
Apparently, this man was one of the other recruits Duncan had spoken of. She wanted to tell him off for his blatant flirting – especially the part where he'd called her 'sweetheart' – but she also knew that perhaps he could shed some light on the situation she now found herself in concerning this so-called Joining ritual.  
  
"Oh? And what do you know of the ritual?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes the way she'd seen Miranda do it whenever she talked to the eldest Amell brother, Daylen, who she had been fancying since she hit puberty.  
  
"Well, uh..." Daveth stammered, surprised at having a woman actually flirt back, for once. "I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So I listen in for a bit. I'm thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds."  
  
"Why would they do that? From what I understand, the Wilds are dangerous."  
  
"Oh, they are! My mum used to tell me all sorts of stories about the Wilds when I was growin' up. There's barbarians and cannibals, and even witches in them woods! All sorts of nasty things. But you needn't worry your pretty little head, 'cause I'll be there to protect you."  
  
"Lucky, lucky me," Varia said with very little enthusiasm, but Daveth either didn't notice or didn't care. He moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, turned her around, and started steering her back in the direction from where she had come.  
  
"You know, I could tell you _all about_ how I cleverly snuck into the Wardens' camp right under the noses of the King's Army. I'll even show ya some of the stuff I managed to swipe for trophies. So why don't we go somewhere a little more private?"  
  
"Oi, Daveth!" called a deep, male voice, and the rogue stopped in his tracks and turned toward its owner with a sigh.  
  
"Can't you see I'm busy here?" he asked a tall, balding man in full armor. While it wasn't as flashy as the pieces the king's guard wore, it was still extremely well-crafted. Varia assumed he was most likely a member of the guard for one of the more prominent noble families in Ferelden. He was obviously older than Daveth, probably older than the king, as well, but not quite as old as Duncan.  
  
"Sorry," the knight apologized, nodding toward Varia. "I was merely wondering if you'd heard anything more about this new recruit Duncan was supposed to be bringing along. I just heard one of the king's men say he was back and I wanted to introduce myself to our new brother-in-arms."  
  
"Sister-in-arms would be more appropriate, I think," Daveth corrected him, gesturing toward Varia. "This is the new recruit."  
  
"Oh!" the knight exclaimed, his eyes going wide as he took her in once more. He quickly wiped his hands on his breeches and offered one of them to her, and Varia couldn't help smiling as she shook it in greeting.  
  
"I'm Jory," he introduced himself with a smile. "I apologize if my comment offended you. Duncan never told us who he was going to retrieve, so I assumed it was another man."  
  
"Well, you were wrong, ser knight," Daveth remarked before Varia could get a word in. "She's not only a woman, but an elf – a _very_ pretty elf, I might add." He turned his head and winked at her and Varia rolled her eyes as she shrugged his arm off from around her shoulders.  
  
"A word of advice," she told the rogue, taking a large step away from him. "You should probably ask a woman her name _before_ you make sexual advances toward her."  
  
Jory chuckled, stepping forward and slapping the smaller man on the back, causing Daveth to stumble forward a bit.  
  
"And what is your name, my good lady?" Jory asked politely, proving himself much more well-mannered than his fellow recruit.  
  
"My name is Varia," she told them. "Duncan brought me from the Circle of Magi."  
  
Daveth winced and slowly backed away from her. "A mage, eh?"  
  
Normally, Varia would have been offended or upset by the way he was treating her like some sort of monster who was about to rip out his entrails, but she found herself laughing at the nervous way he was putting so much distance between them.  
  
"Is there a problem, Daveth?" she asked, taking a step toward him and laughing when he tried to get away from her more quickly and ended up tripping backwards over his own feet.  
  
_Oh, yes_ , she thought. _He is **quite** a graceful rogue, indeed._  
  
"I just don't want to be turned into a toad, is all," Daveth told her, holding his hands up in front of his face like a shield.  
  
"Maker's breath, Daveth, what sort of stories did your mother tell you as a child?" she wondered, gently nudging him with her foot in an attempt to get him to look at her. "I'm not going to turn you into a toad. I don't even know _how_ one turns a person into a toad."  
  
"So you're uh... not gonna hurt me, then?" he pleaded, peeking at her through his fingers.  
  
"As long as you don't try to hurt me first, I think it's safe to say that I won't do anything detrimental to your health," she assured him, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. Daveth hesitated for a moment, staring at her hand as though fire were about to burst forth from her fingertips at any second to set him aflame, then he grasped onto it. Varia stumbled backward slightly as she helped him to stand, but Jory quickly stepped forward and caught her against his chest before she could end up sprawled out on the ground like Daveth had just been.  
  
"We should probably get back to Duncan," Jory suggested as he released her, blushing furiously. "Now that you're here, he'll no doubt want to get this ritual he told us about underway as soon as possible."  
  
"Duncan sent me to find another Warden for the ritual," Varia told them.  
  
"Alistair?" Daveth asked, then turned a bit and pointed in the direction of a set of stone steps near a couple of merchants who had set up stalls for the soldiers to get supplies from. "He went that way, looking for some mage. Poor sap."  
  
"Why 'poor sap'?"  
  
"Alistair used to be a templar," Jory informed her. "He's been giving the mages here quite a wide berth since they arrived."  
  
"Just lovely." Varia sighed, reaching up to rub at one of her temples. She had finally gotten away from the templars at the tower, and now she was going to end up fighting alongside one in the Grey Wardens. And he was not only a senior member of the order but, going by what Jory had just said, he was one of the ones who disliked mages.  
  
"We'll go ahead and let you grab Alistair and catch up," Jory said, giving her a sympathetic smile as he grabbed Daveth by the arm and began leading him toward where Duncan had told them all to meet.  
  
"Varia?" called a woman's voice before she had a chance to take a single step toward the area Daveth had indicated.  
  
She was surprised that someone was actually addressing her by name, and turned around to find one of the senior enchanters from the Circle walking toward her, a smile lighting up her old face.  
  
"Wynne?"  
  
She'd forgotten that Irving had mentioned Anders' former mentor being one of the mages who had been sent to Ostagar to assist the King's Army. The older mage beamed as she reached her younger colleague and enveloped her in a tight hug, taking Varia completely by surprise. Wynne had always been a stern, by-the-books type rather than someone who was known to walk up to people and hug them in greeting.  
  
"It's so good to see you, dear," Wynne said once she had released her. "I take if from your presence here that you've passed your Harrowing and Irving has sent you to help Uldred see reason?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Varia asked, shaking her head. "I did pass my Harrowing, of course, but Irving didn't send me because of Uldred."  
  
Wynne sighed. "Wonderful. I suppose I'll have to continue to listen to his ranting, then. He's been making a fuss for the past several days, insisting that King Cailan should give us a bigger role in the battles. I keep reminding him that our place is to offer support to the troops, of course, but he won't listen."  
  
"And what makes you think he would even care to listen to a mage just out of her apprenticehood over a respected senior enchanter?" Varia asked with an amused smile.  
  
"You weren't just _any_ apprentice, though. You were _Irving's_ apprentice."  
  
Varia let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes as the smile fell from her face. She wasn't even his apprentice any more, and that still seemed to be all people cared about. The First Enchanter had trained her, basically raised her, and because of it her name and reputation would forever be associated him. Perhaps leaving the tower was a better thing than she thought if it meant she would finally get the chance to crawl out from under that overbearing shadow he'd cast upon her.  
  
"I'm not here on behalf of the Circle," she informed the old healer. "I'm here as a recruit of the Grey Wardens."  
  
Wynne's entire demeanor shifted with that revelation. She took a step back away from Varia and carefully appraised her, one of her eyebrows arching high as she crossed her arms over her chest and her lips thinned out into an unreadable expression which was neither a smile nor a frown. It was a look Varia had seen her give Anders on numerous occasions, whenever he was trying to talk himself out of some sort of trouble. Varia wanted to scream at her, ask her what she'd done that was so wrong, but instead she simply offered the senior enchanter a polite bow.  
  
"If you'll excuse me, I must be going."  
  
She didn't even wait for a response. She simply turned on her heel and quickly walked away before Wynne could start lecturing her about her duty to the Circle and how she should be devoting herself to helping other mages instead of wasting her days fighting the darkspawn, or something along those lines. Wynne was a nice enough woman most of the time, and she was the best healer Varia had ever met, but her sense of loyalty to the Circle and the Chantry had always been a bit of a point of contention between them – especially when it came to Anders. Wynne had been his mentor, but she had refused to stand up for him even once after his many escapes. It was a stark contrast to the way Irving had stood up to Greagoir on her behalf when Duncan announced he wanted to recruit her.  
  
Shaking her head, she once more set herself to the task at hand and finally managed to get past the merchants – one of whom was a tranquil mage she vaguely recognized from the tower, selling potions and enchantments. As soon as she had ascended the steps toward the upper courtyard she could hear raised voices coming from nearby and knew she'd finally found her man as she listened in while following the conversation to its source.  
  
"What is it _now_? Haven't the Grey Wardens asked enough of the Circle?"  
  
"I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence."  
  
"What her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the King's orders, I might add!"  
  
Varia was surprised by the mage's defiance, especially considering the man he was talking to was a templar. Either the mage didn't care about being punished for such disrespect or he thought he was above adhering to the rules of the Circle simply because he was no longer housed within its walls. She held her breath and her eyes moved to the templar – Alistair – to see what his reaction would be.  
  
"Should I have asked her to write a note?" Alistair asked the other man rather flippantly, and Varia blinked in surprise. It certainly wasn't the reaction she had been expecting. She thought he would have cuffed the mage or at least threatened him in order to remind him of his place.  
  
"Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!" the mage replied, his dark eyes narrowing at the younger man.  
  
"Yes... _I_ was harassing _you_ by delivering a message," Alistair remarked, a defiant grin on his face.  
  
"Your glibness does you no credit."  
  
"And here I thought we were getting along so well," Alistair said, grasping at his chest in mock pain. "I was even going to name one of my children after you... the _grumpy_ one."  
  
"Enough!" The mage threw up his hands, shaking his head in frustration. "I will go speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!"  
  
He turned and stormed away from Alistair in a huff, nearly knocking Varia over as he shoved past her, and she gaped after him. Never in her life had she seen a mage acting so openly aggressive toward a member of the Chantry. Moreover, she'd never seen a templar react to such hostility in the way Alistair just had. It was confusing, but she supposed that it was just another way the outside world was different from life within the tower.  
  
"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," she heard Alistair say, but she wasn't sure if he was addressing her directly or just commenting on the entire exchange he'd had with the other mage.  
  
"That's one way of putting it, I suppose," she replied, still looking off toward where the mage had gone for a moment before finally turning toward him.  
  
"It's like a party: we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to talk about."  
  
She laughed as a picture of dozens of Grey Wardens standing in a circle, holding hands and singing folk tunes, suddenly formed in her mind. Perhaps this templar wasn't going to be so bad, after all. At the very least, he seemed to have a sense of humor – which was something pretty much all of his fellows were sorely lacking.  
  
"Wait, we haven't met, have we?" he asked, looking her over. "I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"  
  
"I am indeed a mage," Varia responded.  
  
"Really? You don't look like a mage," Alistair remarked, looking surprised, then he quickly cleared his throat and took on a more serious tone. "Uh... that is... I mean... how interesting."  
  
"You must not be a very good templar, if you can't tell when someone is a mage upon meeting them," Varia teased him. "I would think the robes and staff would be a dead giveaway, after all."  
  
"I'm not _really_ a templar, though," Alistair corrected her.  
  
"That's not what Daveth and Jory said."  
  
"Why would you be talking to... Oh!" His face suddenly lit up with realization. "Right, you're the new recruit Duncan went to the Circle to retrieve. I apologize, I should have recognized you right away."  
  
"And how would you have recognized me, at all?" Varia wondered. "We've never met until just now."  
  
"Fair point," Alistair acquiesced with a grin. "Duncan described you to me before he left, though. Young elven girl, blonde hair, grey eyes. You fit that description, so I'm assuming that's you. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden, though I guess you already knew that."  
  
"I did. And I am Varia Surana. It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Right, that was the name," Alistair remarked with a snap of his fingers. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. I'm afraid you exactly didn't catch me at my finest there with the mage. And, you know... being a mage, yourself, I sincerely hope you don't hold that against me."  
  
"I'll try not to," Varia assured him. "After all, that mage was being a bit of an ass. I certainly hope you don't hold _his_ actions against _me_ , either."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, smiling at her once again, and Varia found herself smiling back at him. He was a good-looking man, young and ruggedly handsome like Cullen, and he seemed to have a snarky sense of humor like Anders. There was something in his hazel eyes, though... Some sort of deep pain, like she'd seen in Jowan's eyes so many times when he didn't realize she was looking. She shook her head, reminding herself that her life at the Circle was over and that dwelling upon the memories of her old friends wasn't going to help her move on the way she knew she needed to.  
  
"As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you and the others when you prepare for the Joining," Alistair's voice broke through her thoughts.  
  
"That's why I was sent to find you," Varia told him. "Duncan said to bring you along when I was ready."  
  
"Perhaps we should be on our way back, then," he suggested. "I imagine he's eager to get things started."  
  
"Wait." She reached out to stop him when he turned to go. He looked down at her hand resting upon his arm and she quickly pulled it away, blushing. "I just... I was hoping maybe you could tell me a bit more about this ritual."  
  
"There's... not a lot I can tell you," Alistair replied, scratching the back of his head and avoiding eye contact with her. "We go and collect darkspawn blood, and then you'll hear the rest of it."  
  
"Can't you tell me _something_?" Varia pleaded, and he finally met her eyes. She knew she must have sounded pathetic by the look on his face. She was scared, though. She had been dragged into this way too quickly, and no one was willing to tell her what she should be expecting. For all she knew, she would have to cut off all the toes on her left foot in order to prove her loyalty and worth to the Grey Wardens.  
  
"I..." he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder to be sure they were completely alone, then he took a step closer to her and lowered his voice to a near-whisper.  
  
"Look, I can't tell you much, all right?"  
  
"I just want to know what I've gotten myself into, here."  
  
Alistair gave her a sympathetic nod. "The Joining is... _very_ unpleasant. I wish I could forget it, but I can't. I don't envy what you're going to have to go through."  
  
"But what actually _happens_ in the Joining?"  
  
"You find out _why_ it's a secret."  
  
Varia slowly let out a breath and shut her eyes, a combination of anger and fear making her stomach feel like it was about to empty itself upon his feet. He was being intentionally vague, and it was clear she wasn't going to get any actual details about the ritual out of him.  
  
"Hey," Alistair said, resting a hand on her shoulder, and Varia looked up at him. Her vision was blurred by tears, but she could tell he was warring with himself inside his head. He appeared to want to tell her everything, but she knew he couldn't.  
  
"You're going to be fine," he assured her, and she jumped a little when she felt his thumb gently swipe across her cheek. It was a simple gesture meant to comfort her, but her heart instantly started racing in her chest at the contact. Surprisingly, though, she found her vision clearing as the tears subsided. For a long time, she simply gazed into his gentle hazel eyes. They had only just met, but there was a comforting familiarity in them.  
  
"I'm sorry," Alistair apologized, suddenly pulling his hand away and averting his gaze as his cheeks burned pink. "I didn't mean to... I don't know what came over me, there."  
  
"It's all right," she assured him. "But could you just answer one more question about this Joining ritual for me?"  
  
"If I'm able to, certainly," he told her without looking at her.  
  
"Is it anything like the Harrowing?" she asked, knowing that he would be aware of what was involved in the ritual, since he was a templar.  
  
"I don't know much about the Harrowing, to be honest. Only what I was told. I really have no idea what a mage has to go through during the ritual, so I can't rightly compare the two. We don't do any spells, if that's what you're asking," he answered. "Allow me to say this, though: if becoming a Grey Warden were easy, we wouldn't recruit the best."  
  
"Thank you for your honesty and your vote of confidence," she told him as she squared her shoulders and lifted her head high, though she actually felt even _less_ confident than she had before she met him.  
  
Alistair gave her a curious look. He could tell she was hiding behind a false sense of bravado. He'd done that himself, on far too many occasions to count. She was better at it than he ever had been, though. If he hadn't just spoken to her, hadn't just witnessed the tears in those big, frightened eyes for himself, he might have been convinced that she really was as brave as she was attempting to make herself out to be. He'd gotten a glimpse of the scared little girl underneath the facade, however, and it had mercilessly tugged at something in his heart.  
  
He'd almost spilled everything to her in that moment, all of the Wardens' secrets Duncan had entrusted him with shortly after his own Joining six months ago. Thankfully, his sense of obligation to the order and the man who had saved him from what would have been a life full of loneliness and boredom had won out and he'd been able to hold his tongue. They would tell her everything soon enough. Soon, she and the others would find out exactly what they had gotten themselves into by agreeing to undergo the Joining. He could only hope she would forgive him for not telling her the truth when that time came.  
  
He also hoped she would survive, because it would greatly sadden him if he had to watch those beautiful eyes – with their enchanting flecks of silver swimming in a sea of deep, stormy grey – close forever.

 


	10. Omens and Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia and the other recruits receive their first orders from Duncan, but not before a seemingly crazed soldier delivers a dire warning to her.

 

**Chapter Ten**  
  
Varia followed Alistair away from the ruined temple, her steps falling heavily as tiredness started to finally settle upon her. She hadn't slept since she passed out from exhaustion back at the tower, and she and Duncan had been traveling non-stop all night and half the day just to reach Ostagar before night fell once more. She'd been running on adrenaline the entire time thanks to the combination of the threat upon her life from Greagoir and the argument she'd had with the senior Grey Warden at The Spoiled Princess, and now she was finally crashing. Her foot slipped off the bottom step leading back down to the upper courtyard, causing her to lose her balance, and she tumbled forward into Alistair. He brought his arms up to catch her, chuckling a bit, and she blushed as she pushed him away and stood up straight once more.  
  
"You okay?" he asked, still smiling.  
  
"I'm fine," she insisted, smoothing out her robes. "I was simply distracted, that's all."  
  
"Distracted about what?" Alistair wondered, allowing her to walk a bit ahead of him.  
  
"I keep wondering what that argument I saw was about," she told him, turning to look at him with her head cocked slightly to one side. She hoped that by steering the conversation in a specific direction he would forget about her nearly falling onto her face in front of him.  
  
"With the mage?" He waited for her nod to continue. "Well, the Circle is here at the king's request and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit, as you can probably imagine. They just _love_ letting the mages know how unwelcome they are."  
  
"Of course they do," Varia muttered bitterly, walking away from him with a shake of her head, and Alistair fell into step at her side. "I actually saw a group of  mages performing some sort of ritual when I arrived and then when I attempted to see if you had been there, the templars simply brushed me off and provided me with absolutely no help at all."  
  
"But you found me," Alistair told her with a wink. "That's what's important. Anyway, the entire situation with that mage put me in a bit of an awkward position. I was once a templar, after all."  
  
"That _would_ be awkward," Varia remarked with a smirk, knowing just how much the majority of her fellow mages absolutely despised their Chantry-appointed keepers.  
  
"I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult – sending _me_ as her messenger – and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it in the first place, but Duncan says we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently, they didn't get the same speech I did."  
  
"Wait." Varia turned and stopped him with a hand upon his chest. "Before, you said you weren't really a templar. Now you're telling me that you _are_ one. So which is it?"  
  
"I never actually became a _full_ templar, but I was trained as one," he explained. "Duncan recruited me before I took my vows. That was about... six months ago."  
  
"Did you _enjoy_ being a templar?" she wondered, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. He didn't seem to be the sort who would gain pleasure out of hunting down mages, but perhaps it was just a facade.  
  
Alistair let out a bark of laughter in response to the question. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the Chantry type. Don't get me wrong: I believe in the Maker as much as the next man, but I'm not the sort of person who wants to give up their entire life to serve His name."  
  
"What does that have to do with whether or not you enjoyed being a templar?"  
  
"Oh! You're asking if I enjoyed the whole 'oppress all mages' bit? The answer is no. Look, I know you're a mage and being around me probably makes you uncomfortable... but it wasn't _my_ idea. I was raised in the Chantry, and they decided my fate a long time ago."  
  
"You really had no contact with mages through your entire training?" she wondered, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion.  
  
"I was only present during one Harrowing," Alistair said, steering her away from the group of mages she had seen earlier as they walked toward them. "That was all I needed, too. I don't know how _anyone_ could get through that."  
  
"I admit, it's not an easy feat. I only just took my own Harrowing two days ago," she told him, not seeing any harm in giving away the fact that it was a difficult test. It wasn't like she was telling him every detail of exactly what went on during the Harrowing, after all.  
  
"Really?" Alistair asked her, his tone full of surprise. "Well, I must say you don't look like someone who just went through that ordeal. Anyway, the girl whose Harrowing I witnessed failed. She had a demon put inside her, to see if she could resist. And she couldn't. We had to... end it quickly." A shudder ran through his body at the memory of what he'd witnessed that day, the way the girl's body had started to change and how quickly the Knight-Commander had reacted, easily stepping forward and beheading the girl like he was simply splitting a log for firewood.  
  
Varia stopped walking and remained silent for a moment, thinking about everything he had told her about his time as a templar. He'd become a Grey Warden six months ago, which meant that he would have witnessed this Harrowing sometime before then. Since he sounded Fereldan, she assumed he must have also been at Kinloch Hold for the Harrowing. Which meant...  
  
"Do you remember the name of the girl?" she asked him quietly, looking him straight in the eye.  
  
"I'm... not sure," Alistair said, breaking the eye contact to look up at the sky thoughtfully. "It was something like... Jasmine... Josephine..."  
  
"Jocelyn?" Varia suggested, her breath catching in her throat.  
  
"That's it!" Alistair smiled at her, but his smile fell when he saw the look of profound sadness on her face. "You knew her?"  
  
"She was a friend," Varia told him, her voice almost too quiet for him to hear. "One of the few I had. Please tell me you weren't the one who--"  
  
"No!" Alistair interrupted her, holding up his hands in front of him and shaking his head. "No, no, no... I couldn't have done it, even if they told me to. The Knight-Commander did it."  
  
"Greagoir. Of course." Varia groaned. He _would_ take pleasure in cutting down the apprentices who failed their Harrowing. In fact, if Cullen hadn't been the one tasked with killing her in the event of her failure, she was willing to bet he would have been the first in line to do the deed if for no other reason than to spite Irving.  
  
"I have to say I didn't have much interest in becoming a templar after that incident," Alistair continued. "Not that I really had much of an interest, to begin with. The Grand Cleric didn't want to let me go, though. Duncan was forced to conscript me into the Wardens, and was she ever furious when he did. I thought she was going to have us both arrested on the spot."  
  
Varia laughed. "I could see that happening, to be honest. The Chantry doesn't exactly take kindly to those who go against their wishes, after all. Duncan more or less had to conscript me, as well, or else I might have been facing a death penalty."  
  
"What in Andraste's name did you do?" Alistair asked her, a surprised laugh escaping him.  
  
"I'd really rather not talk about it, if you don't mind," she answered, her tone sharp, and he nodded solemnly.  
  
"I understand," he remarked, averting his eyes from her face. "We all have some secrets from our past lives before the Wardens that we'd rather not share."  
  
Varia once more found herself regarding him with a fair amount of suspicion. It wasn't so much what he said that had hit a nerve with her, but the fact that he hadn't been able to look at her when he said it. It seemed that he might also be hiding something about himself from the rest of the Wardens. While she was quite curious as to what that something was, she decided to not push him for an answer. After all, he had respected her privacy and it was only courteous for her to grant him the same consideration.  
  
"Why was the Grand Cleric so eager to keep you?" she asked, instead. "After all, you said you weren't exactly the type who's suited for a life of service to the Chantry."  
  
"You know, I've wondered that myself on many occasions. It's not as if she valued me highly. On the contrary, she would more often than not be lecturing me on how I wasn't applying myself or how I was setting a bad example for the younger recruits with my flippant attitude. Honestly, I think she just didn't want to give anything to the Grey Wardens." He shrugged. "The Chantry didn't lose much, and I think I can do more good out here fighting the darkspawn  than I ever would have sitting in a temple somewhere or standing around at the Circle giving mages the evil eye."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you were lucky enough to get away from that life," Varia told him with a smile. "It seems you made it out just in time, too."  
  
" _That's_ for sure," Alistair agreed, returning her smile, and Varia felt herself starting to blush. She was sure he hadn't meant it to be a flirtatious gesture, but the way in which he'd said those words had caused her to feel a bit giddy inside. The tone of his voice had been a slightly lower than normal, and it hit a spot inside her just right to send her heart racing.  
  
"We should probably get back to Duncan," she suggested, turning away from him and continuing on her way to the Grey Warden camp. She didn't get very far before a man in full armor with disheveled red hair lunged at her and grasped her tightly by her upper arms.  
  
"You... You need to convince them!" he pleaded with her, and Varia winced as his fingers dug mercilessly into her arms. "We've got to run! The darkspawn are coming!"  
  
"There _are_ Grey Wardens here, you know," Alistair assured the man, grasping him firmly by his wrists and forcing him to let go of her.  
  
"The Grey Wardens will die!" the soldier insisted, turning wild eyes to Alistair and lunging at him, instead. He clawed futilely at his armor, trying to grasp onto it, and sunk to the ground on his knees when he failed. "The king will die! We'll all die!"  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Varia quietly asked Alistair as the man curled up into at ball at their feet and began moaning and sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
"There you are!" called a woman with dark hair wearing lighter armor in the same colors. She rushed to the man's side and knelt next to him, whispering comforting words, but the man didn't seem to hear her.  
  
"I apologize, Warden," she addressed Alistair, looking up at him. "He's been like this ever since they found him in the Wilds."  
  
"Where are the rest of the men from his scouting party?" Alistair asked the woman, who was now attempting to apply a healing poultice to the man. He wouldn't stay still, however, and more of it ended up on the ground than on his wounds.  
  
"All dead, I fear. We couldn't get a straight answer out of him, though. Just this rambling nonsense. Aside from his wounds, however, there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with him. There's no sign of the taint. He's just... terrified."  
  
"If I may?" Varia offered, kneeling on the other side of the man and holding out her hands over him. The dark-haired woman nodded, and she used a mild sleeping spell to help calm him before casting the one healing spell she knew upon his injured body. It was only a minor spell, and she knew it wouldn't be enough to heal him completely, but perhaps it would assist the other woman – who she assumed to be some sort of nurse – to properly treat his injuries.  
  
"You!" the man exclaimed, his hand shooting out and grasping Varia by the collar of her robes. He pulled her closer toward him, his eyes boring into hers, and she quickly began struggling against his hold. She hadn't been able to see it before, but now that she was close to him she noticed that the parts of his eyes which should have been white were starting to turn a sickly black color. The nurse had said he was untainted, but Blight sickness or not the man was _very_ ill.  
  
"You can feel it, can't you?" he asked, his low whisper still carrying to her sensitive elven ears even over the shouting of Alistair and the nurse, who were both trying to pry him away from her. "They taint the land, turn it black and sick. You can feel it inside! They'll come out of that forest and spread! Like caterpillars covering a tree, they'll come out and they'll swallow us whole! They were _everywhere_... I saw them!"  
  
He suddenly let her go, sending her sprawling backwards onto the ground next to him, and once more began to sob helplessly. Varia continued to stare at him even as Alistair helped her to her feet, her breath coming out in shallow gasps. She knew he was likely mad, but there had been something in his eyes... something that told her he was speaking the truth, no matter how crazy it seemed. Alistair had a point, though. The Grey Wardens were there, ready to take on the darkspawn with the help of the King's Army and the forces of every noble family in Ferelden. The darkspawn stood little chance of surviving a fight with that many soldiers against them. Shaking off the man's warning, she assured Alistair that she was fine and brushed away both his hands and those of the nurse, which were checking her over for injuries.  
  
"I said I'm fine," she repeated, looking from the nurse to her escort. "He didn't hurt me."  
  
Alistair visibly relaxed when she said that, and she thought it was both sweet and infuriating that he would be so concerned with her well-being after merely being grabbed by some insane soldier. He'd only had her by her robes, after all. It would have been entirely different if his hands had been around her neck, choking the life out of her. Though, in that case, she guessed her survival instincts would have kicked in and he most likely would have ended up electrocuted like that bandit she had killed as a child.  
  
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and shook her head slightly to push back the though of what she had done before it rose to the surface and caused her to break down again like she had when Duncan first told her it wasn't just a rumor.  
  
"Are you _sure_ you're all right?" Alistair asked her, resting his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Yes," she assured him, placing her hand on top of his and looking up into his worried face with a small smile.  
  
"Good," he said, letting out a relieved sigh. "I'd hate to have you getting hurt right after we've just met."  
  
"I'm not completely helpless, Alistair," she reminded him with a laugh.  
  
"Right. You're a mage." Alistair nodded, scratching the back of his head a bit sheepishly. "Sorry, it's just that I'm not used to being around women of your... caliber. I grew up around Chantry sisters and was taught to protect them and--"  
  
"You don't need to explain, Alistair," she cut him off, sensing he was about to begin rambling about how he'd been brought up to think all women were pure and innocent and defenseless. "I understand."  
  
"Right," Alistair said, then blushed when he realized he was repeating himself. He quickly turned on his heel and started walking away from her, and Varia followed him past a large group of soldiers who had gathered for a prayer session being led by the Revered Mother. She paused for a moment to listen, recalling the times she had heard parts of the Chant recited in the small chapel at the Circle tower. She'd never attended any of the sermons, personally – the only mage she knew who did so was that strange girl, Keili, who saw her own magic as a curse – but she had waited outside the chapel many times for Cullen.  
  
"Varia?"  
  
She looked toward Alistair and found him standing halfway between the prayer group and the Grey Wardens' camp. The volume of his voice had carried over the sound of the Revered Mother's recitation of the Chant of Light, causing her to stop her preaching and glare at the mage who dared to cause the disruption. Varia bowed apologetically and scurried off after Alistair, placing him between herself and the soldiers the rest of the way to the camp where Duncan was waiting with Jory and Daveth.  
  
"I see you found Alistair," Duncan remarked when they approached, crossing his arms over his chest. "I gather that means you're ready to begin preparations. Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up the mages, Alistair."  
  
Alistair let out a nervous laugh under the older man's critical gaze. "What can I say? The Revered Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army."  
  
"She told you to sass the mage, did she?" Duncan asked, one of his dark eyebrows raising incredulously before he let out a deep sigh and shook his head. "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us."  
  
"You're right, Duncan. I apologize."  
  
Varia was getting quite miffed. Everywhere she turned, there was one big Grey Wardens secret after another. First the joining ritual, and now it seemed like the Wardens as a whole had done something to anger one or more parties within the military camp. She knew that asking for answers would get her nowhere at this point, though. She would wait until she was officially a Warden, then demand full disclosure. Hopefully, once she was a part of the order they would be willing to fill her in on what was going on.  
  
"Now then," Duncan continued, turning to address her and the other two recruits, "since you are all here, we can begin. You three will head into the Wilds to perform two tasks, with Alistair as your guide."  
  
"Great. So we're here to act as a bunch of lackeys," Daveth complained. "Here I thought we was going to be seeing some action."  
  
"Shut it, Daveth," Jory scolded the younger man. "I'm sure this is an important part of our training."  
  
"Your first task is to collect three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each of you," Duncan announced, causing both men to fall silent and grow pale. Varia bit her tongue to keep from laughing at both of them, especially the large knight. She was nervous about the prospect of facing darkspawn, as well, but she also knew Alistair would be with them and as a Grey Warden he was trained to fight them even if they didn't know the first thing about the horrid creatures.  
  
"What do we need this darkspawn blood for?" she asked, though she was almost certain she knew what the answer would be.  
  
"For the Joining, itself," Duncan replied, confirming her suspicion. "I'll explain more once you've all returned. Your second task will be to retrieve some documents from a former Grey Warden archive in the Wilds which was abandoned long ago when we could no longer could afford to maintain such remote outposts."  
  
"What sort of documents are we looking for?" Jory asked.  
  
"They are magically-sealed scrolls, old treaties made by the peoples of Ferelden in promise of support to the Wardens a long time ago," Duncan explained. "They were once considered a mere formality, but things have changed so much over the years that many have forgotten the commitments they made to us. I believe it would be a good idea to have something with which to remind them of their commitments."  
  
"A sound plan," Jory agreed, and Daveth rolled his eyes.  
  
"It _is_ possible, however, that the scrolls may have been destroyed," Duncan continued, "though the seal's magic should have protected them. Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal."  
  
"If these documents are so important, why were they left behind?" Varia wondered.  
  
"It was assumed we would return one day," Duncan answered with a weary sigh. "A great many things were assumed that have not held true, I'm afraid."  
  
"If that's the case, then what's to say those who created the treaties with the Wardens won't simply refuse to acknowledge them?"  
  
"They can't do that, can they?" Alistair asked, his voice full of concern.  
  
"They can try, but those treaties are iron-clad in the time of a Blight," Duncan assured them. "Besides, I think they're well aware that they are far better off aligning with us rather than trying to defeat the darkspawn on their own."  
  
"Not to be even more negative, here," Daveth interjected, "but if it's been so long since anyone has been to these archives or ruins or what have you... then how in the Maker's name are we supposed to bloody find them?"  
  
"Alistair knows where to look."  
  
"Great. We'll be wandering around those woods for _days_ ," Daveth complained under his breath, casting a glare at Alistair. Varia sighed heavily and Jory simply shook his head, while Duncan and Alistair remanded oblivious to the rogue's snide comment.  
  
"Watch over your charges, Alisatir," Duncan instructed the younger Warden. "Return quickly, and safely."  
  
"We will," Alistair promised with a nod of his head before turning his attention to the three recruits. "Right then, we best be off before we lose any more daylight."  
  
"May the Maker watch over your path," Duncan addressed them with a respectful bow. "I will see you when you return."  
  
"Are we actually expected to get all this done before nightfall?" Daveth asked as they followed Alistair through the camp, past a group of warriors with painted faces and mabari hounds. "Honestly... How are we expected to find enough darkspawn blood for the three of us _and_ some lost ruins when it's already this late?"  
  
"Do you _always_ complain this much?" Varia asked him.  
  
"Yes," Jory and Alistair answered at the same time.  
  
"I'm just sayin'... the Wilds ain't safe at night."  
  
"Then shut your trap and get moving," Jory scolded the younger man, giving him a small push in the shoulder which sent him stumbling forward several feet.  
  
Varia and Alistair both laughed at the exchange between the two men, and their eyes briefly met. He smiled at her and she cursed herself when she felt her stomach flutter as she returned the smile. He was having the same sort of effect upon her that Cullen had, and it frightened her. She'd already given her heart to her beloved templar, and here she was feeling the same flurry of excitement he caused within her being brought out by another man.  
  
"Ah... Wardens," a guard addressed them when they approached a large wooden gate on the far side of the camp, distracting her from her dilemma. "I'm told you all have business in the Wilds. The gate's open for you... just be careful out there. Especially you, little lady," he added, giving Varia a wink. "Even a Grey Warden won't be safe in the forest tonight."  
  
"See? I _told_ you!" Daveth exclaimed, punching Jory in the arm and then wincing as he shook his hand in an attempt to relieve the stinging in his fingers from having hit the thick steel of the warrior's armor.  
  
"And I told _you_ to get moving," Jory repeated, shoving Daveth ahead of him through the open gates. Alistair hung back and gestured for Varia to precede him, and she nodded politely to him before following the other recruits out into the Wilds for what she hoped would be their final task before finally undergoing the Joining.

 


	11. Into the Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair, Varia, Daveth, and Jory head out into the Wilds... saving a fallen soldier and taking on a group of darkspawn while en route to the location of the Grey Warden treaties.

 

 

**Chapter Eleven**  
  
Varia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply once they had put a good distance between themselves and the king's camp. The scent of the forest immediately filled her lungs, and memories of her years at the tower flooded her mind. The most predominant smell was that of the trees themselves, tall firs whose scent called up an image of the branches that the Tranquil used to decorate the main halls and chapel every year around Satinalia. It was the one time of year the templars let the mages have any sort of casual gathering, and while presents were rarely exchanged, there was always a great feast with lots of wine and merrymaking – at least until Greagoir would decide things were starting to get out of hand and put an end to it.  
  
Her hand went to her chest and she felt for the pendant hidden beneath her robes. It had been a gift from Cullen during the previous year's Satinalia celebration. The necklace once belonged to his mother, who had died giving birth to his youngest sister. So, really, the necklace was the last thing he had to remember his mother by. He'd been asked to give up his worldly possessions when he took his place at the Chantry, but he couldn't let go of that pendant and the memories it held for him... until he found her. He'd presented it to her as he stumbled over his words, telling her how much she meant to him and that he hoped she would accept the simple pendant of shimmering white stone as a token of his love for her. Her response had been to kiss him, and they had very nearly been caught by a couple of drunken mages seeking a corner of their own for more rigorous activities – one of whom, she later learned, had of course been Anders.  
  
A rustling sound ahead brought her out of her thoughts, and she reached for her staff as she opened her eyes. The others stopped walking and turned to look at her, curious as to the reason behind her suddenly defensive stance, and she nodded toward a group of bushes at the bottom of the hill they were descending. Daveth and Jory immediately looked to Alistair.  
  
“What?” he asked the two men.  
  
“Darkspawn or no?” Jory questioned, his voice trembling slightly.  
  
“No,” Alistair assured them, sounding a bit annoyed. “Probably just a wild animal.”  
  
At that moment, a small pack of wolves leapt out from behind the bushes and began charging up the hill toward them. Varia readied a lightning spell to throw at the one in the lead, but Daveth placed a hand on her shoulder to halt her.  
  
“Don't worry, I'll protect you,” he told her with a flash of his smile before running toward the wolf and plunging both of his daggers into the beast's neck. Meanwhile, Alistair and Jory were left to take care of the remaining five wolves between them.  
  
“See?” the rogue said, cocksure grin still in place. “Daveth won't let nothing happen to that pretty little hide of yours.”  
  
Varia saw the final wolf before the others did, crouched low behind Daveth and just about to pounce upon him. It was larger than all the others had been, most likely the _real_ alpha of the pack they had just taken out. Before the creature could attack, she quickly summoned her strongest lightning bolt spell and threw it at the wolf as it jumped toward Daveth's back. The spell just barely missed Daveth himself, crackling past his left ear and hitting the wolf straight in its chest. The animal fell to the ground behind him, its legs twitching for several seconds before lying motionless, and when he turned and saw it he knew he had just narrowly escaped a very close call.  
  
“And _you_ are the one who is going to protect _me_?” Varia remarked with a smirk as she walked past the stunned man, gently patting his shoulder. Jory and Alistair both laughed at their companion's expense.  
  
“Looks like she told you,” Alistair teased him, following in Varia's wake.  
  
“She... She could have killed me!” Daveth complained, reaching up to rub his ear, which was still buzzing from the noise of the lightning that had flown past it. “I think I might be deaf on this side, now!”  
  
“Now, Daveth, is that any way to thank the woman who just saved your sorry hide?” Jory scolded him, putting one of his large arms around the younger man's shoulder and escorting him along behind the others.  
  
“So what are you doing in the Wardens, anyway, Daveth?” Varia asked him when he and Jory caught up to her and Alistair. “It seems to me that someone like you would be much more comfortable in the city, far away from scary wolves and witches.”  
  
“Not funny!” Daveth shouted at the other two men when they snickered at her comment, then he returned his attention to Varia.  
  
“If you must know, I was conscripted.”  
  
“So you didn't _want_ to come here.”  
  
“It was more like the city guard didn't want to _let me_ come here,” he corrected her. “See, I'm a pickpocket and cut-purse by trade--”  
  
“So, you're a thief,” Jory interrupted, a disapproving tone to his voice, and Varia realized this was probably the first time he'd heard of his fellow recruit's background. Alistair, however, appeared to already be privy to the knowledge as he merely listened to what the rogue had to say and offered no protests of his own. Varia assumed he had previously made his opinions on the subject of conscripting a criminal into the Wardens known to Duncan - and likely had heard some sort of lecture on forgiveness from the older man.  
  
“Anyway,” Daveth spoke over Jory. “I made the mistake of trying to snatch Duncan's purse. Let me tell you, he might be old but he's faster than he looks. Unfortunately, though, the guard caught up to me, first. They was going to sting me up right there in the middle of the square. But then Duncan stepped in and conscripted me. I wasn't gonna complain. Much rather be out here than dead.”  
  
Jory scoffed and muttered something about how he deserved what was coming to him, and Varia turned to address the knight.  
  
“So how did _you_ end up here?”  
  
“Me?” Jory asked, pointing to himself. “Well, I participated in a tournament the Teryn of Highever held in Duncan's honor. When I won, I was offered a place within the Wardens' ranks.”  
  
“This must be a great honor for you, then, ser knight,” Daveth said with a mock bow.  
  
“Actually, I'd much rater be back in Highever, to be quite honest. My wife is due in less than a month's time.”  
  
Varia suddenly understood Jory's trepidation about facing the darkspawn. They were dangerous creatures, and none of them knew what they were up against. He had a wife at home who was about to give birth. If she was in his position she would probably be scared that she'd never get to see that child, too.  
  
“And what about you, pretty mage?”  
  
She looked from Daveth to the others and found that all three of them were waiting to hear her story about how she had been recruited into the Grey Wardens. Even Alistair was paying attention, now, as he hadn't yet heard her story like he had the others'. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to reveal the true reason she had needed to leave the tower behind, but the others had been honest with her so she decided that she at least owed them the same courtesy.  
  
“Duncan came to the tower in search of a mage to recruit, and he chose me,” she told them, then took a deep breath before continuing. “He was more or less forced to conscript me, however, after I assisted in the escape of a blood mage from the tower.”  
  
She didn't miss the way all of their postures changed at the revelation, especially Alistair. The former templar trainee visibly stiffened, his eyes staring intently at her as though he was using them to try to pierce her very soul and see if she was telling the truth.  
  
“You helped a _maleficar_ escape the templars' custody?” he questioned her.  
  
“Yes,” Varia replied quietly, unable to meet his eyes. “My best friend... He turned out to be a blood mage. I didn't know. The First Enchanter didn't know, either. He thought we were simply setting a trap to catch a simple mage apprentice who wished to escape the tower. He was wrong. We were both wrong. Though I likely would have helped him attempt his escape even if I hadn't been under the First Enchanter's orders to deceive him.”  
  
“Why would you do something like that _willingly_?” Alistair wondered, approaching her. “Surely, you're aware of the repercussions you would have faced if you were caught?”  
  
“I don't expect you to understand or agree with what I did, Alistair,” she addressed him, still refusing to look at him, “but it's quite clear we all have a past here. I'm not exactly proud of what happened, but it's done and I can't undo it – no matter how much I wish I could. So, please... Could we simply not talk any more of this and leave it in the past, where it belongs?”  
  
Alistair didn't know what to say. On one hand, he wanted to continue telling her how wrong her actions had been. On the other, however, he could see the she was genuinely sorry for what had happened and that speaking about it was causing her a great deal of pain. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but found that nothing seemed quite right for the situation. So he merely placed his hand upon her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.  
  
“You're right,” he told her after a moment. “We all have a past, not all of it pleasant. I'm sorry for my outburst, though perhaps someday you'll be willing to explain to me _why_ you did it.”  
  
Varia finally looked at him, once more taking note of his words. She was more sure now than she had been earlier that he was also hiding something about his past. She knew she owed him a better explanation for why she'd agreed to help Jowan in the first place, but she didn't necessarily want the others to hear what she had to say. Daveth didn't seem to be the sort who could keep his mouth shut, and she didn't need everyone back at camp to know that she'd been dallying about with a templar. One of the mages from the Circle could easily report it to Greagoir after they returned to the tower, after all, and then Cullen would be ruined. Once she was able to speak to Alistair privately, she would tell him everything.  
  
“Thank you,” she told him, and he nodded in reply.  
  
“Oi, you're not trying to step in on my territory are you?” Daveth asked Alistair, moving to stand next to Varia and placing a possessive arm around her shoulders. “I saw her first, mate. Get your own pretty little elf.”  
  
“I... No. Never. Not that I don't think she's pretty, but...” Alistair blushed as he fell over his words, quickly averting his eyes from Varia when he realized he had been staring at her. “Nevermind. Let's just get moving.”  
  
Varia removed Daveth's arm and followed Alistair deeper into the forest, ignoring the comments she heard the rogue making to Jory about the way her backside looked in the robes she was wearing. To his credit, Jory admonished his fellow recruit for the crude remarks and warned him that if he wasn't careful she was likely to get angry and set his hair on fire. Varia tried not to laugh, but the mental picture of Daveth with his hair aflame, running to one of the small, dirty pools of water in order to dunk his head in while screaming like a little girl caused a small giggle to escape her.  
  
“You know, this isn't playtime,” Alistair scolded, though he was grinning at her. She wondered if perhaps he had a similar image playing in his own brain, and was almost sure he was when he winked at her before yelling at Daveth – who had begun lagging several steps behind the rest of them, eying Varia warily – to catch up.  
  
“Please... Help me...”  
  
Alistair stopped short and held up a hand to halt the others, then pulled his sword from the scabbard at his hip and cautiously made his way toward the sound of the voice. Varia and Jory both followed, weapons in hand, while Daveth slunk into the shadows in order to sneak around their target and come up from behind.  
  
“Stand down!” Alistair called out, more to Daveth in order to prevent him from striking to the others. Before them laid a soldier, barely alive and covered in blood, reaching out a hand as he wheezed and repeated his request for help.  
  
“Dear Maker! Collin?”  
  
“Jory, is that you?” the man asked, trying to push himself up to look at the knight. His arms gave out, however, and he ended up sprawled on his back.  
  
“You know this man?”Alistair asked his fellow warrior.  
  
“I served with him in Highever,” Jory replied, kneeling down next to the wounded soldier. “Collin, what happened here?”  
  
“We... Were ambushed,” Collin explained, pausing occasionally to clutch at a gaping wound in his side. “They came out of nowhere. The Teryn's son... Maker... We tried so hard to... keep him safe...”  
  
“Fergus Cousland is dead?” Jory whispered in disbelief, his eyes going wide.  
  
“I... I don't know,” Collin replied. “He fell... Told us all to run. We wanted to stay. He said... It was an order.”  
  
“Jory, would you mind stepping aside?” Varia asked him. Jory looked at her blankly for a moment, then suddenly jumped to his feet and backed away to give her a place to kneel next to Collin.  
  
“Of course! Please, do what you can for him. He has two little girls at home.”  
  
“I'm afraid healing is far from one of my specialties, but I'll do what I can,” she said, as much to assure Collin as Jory.  
  
“I have some bandages in my pack, as well,” Alistair remarked, kneeling on the other side of the fallen soldier.  
  
“Then I shall do what I can to heal up the more serious wounds as much as I'm able, and we'll have to bandage him him and take him back so he can be more properly treated. Lucky for you, ser, one of the best healers in Ferelden is among those mages who are currently at the camp. She'll see to it that you're safely returned to your family.”  
  
“Thank you,” Collin told her, “but I should be able to make it back on my own once I've been bandaged up.”  
  
Varia and Alistair shared a look over him. Either he didn't realize the severity of his own wounds, or it was a sense of bravado which was keeping him from allowing them to give him the full extent of their help.  
  
“That's... probably for the best,” Alistair commented as Varia began applying healing magic to the wound in Collin's side. “We still need to collect the things Duncan sent us out here for.”  
  
Varia and Alistair worked in silence for the next few minutes, her healing the largest wounds Collin had sustained as best she was able while Alistair followed her lead and dressed each of them with the bandages he'd brought along.  
  
“Do you happen to have clean drinking water with you?” she asked him when they had finished, and Alistair nodded and fished out a large skin of water from his pack.  
  
“I don't blame you, really,” he told her, handing it over. “I wouldn't want to wash the blood off my hands in any of the water out here, either.”  
  
“I wasn't planning on using it for washing,” she corrected him, digging through her own belongings for some of the elfroot leaves she had collected during her trip from the tower. She placed three of them into the water and held the skin over her left palm, calling upon her magic to light a small flame beneath it.  
  
“Um... What, exactly, are you doing?” Alistair asked her.  
  
“I don't have the proper tools to make a potion for him, so I'm brewing a simple tea,” Varia explained. “It won't be as effective as a stamina draught, but it should give him enough energy to be able to return to camp.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jory told her, giving her shoulder a grateful squeeze. Varia looked up at him and nodded before returning her attention to Collin, who she helped sit up a bit so he could drink more easily.  
  
“Where's Daveth?” Alistair asked, suddenly noticing the rogue's absence.  
  
“He's nearby,” Varia assured him as she continued attending to her patient, gesturing with her head toward a nearby wooded area. “I can hear him rustling around in some bushes over there.”  
  
By the time Varia finished giving Collin the tea and Alistair had helped him to his feet, Daveth had returned to the group with a wide grin on his face.  
  
“Hey, look what I found when I was takin' a piss!” he called as he joined them.  
  
“Daveth, please! Must you use such crude language in front of a lady?”  
  
“I'm sure she doesn't mind, ser knight. Do you, my lovely?” he asked, turning to Varia.  
  
“I've heard worse living in the tower,” she informed Jory, recalling some of the conversations she'd heard the templars – of all people – engaging in. “Much worse.”  
  
“Anyway, look,” Daveth repeated, holding out his hands to Varia. She was almost afraid to see what he had in his hands, but upon glancing at them she found a delicate wildflower – white with a red center.  
  
“Very pretty,” she commented. “But while I appreciate the gesture, I really shouldn't accept. I'm spoken for.”  
  
“How you crush my heart,” Daveth replied, clutching at his chest with one hand. “Actually, the houndmaster back at camp said he was lookin' for one o'these. Says he needs it to treat a mabari who got sick from darkspawn. Was offerin' to pay anyone who'd go get him one.”  
  
“And you're giving it to me?” Varia asked, raising an eyebrow. Daveth nodded and held the flower even farther out toward her with a grin. “Is this some attempt to _buy_ my affection?”  
  
“Maybe,” Daveth drawled. “Is it working?”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
Varia smiled and took the flower, admiring it for a moment before carefully placing it into her pack. Daveth gaped at her as she turned on her heel and continued  along the path ahead of them, and once more Jory had to push him along to keep pace with the others. Alistair walked silently at Varia's side for a while, stealing occasional glances at her.  
  
“Something on your mind?” she asked him, flashing a knowing smile.  
  
“You said you were spoken for,” Alistair remarked, glancing at her briefly once more and quickly looking away, blushing.  
  
“I am. Why? Are _you_ interested in me, too?”  
  
“I... No. No, of course not,” Alistair insisted, the blush moving up into his ears.  
  
Varia laughed and Alistair sped up his gait, walking ahead of her a few paces in a vain attempt to hide his blush. She bit her bottom lip to stop her laughter when she saw the red splotches covering the back of his neck, feeling a blush of her own coming on. He hadn't been as blatantly obvious as Daveth was with his attraction to her, but his awkward attempts at flirting were much more charming.  
  
“You know, Alistair,” she called ahead to him, causing him to turn his head and slow in his steps. “If I may be so bold, you're much more my type than Daveth is.”  
  
She meant it as an insult to Daveth, who she was sure could hear the comment, but was rewarded with an acute increase in Alistair's blush in addition to the indignant shout coming from the rogue behind her. She momentarily felt bad for teasing the former templar before the bubbling laughter that she was struggling to hold back spilled forth from her lips. The mirthful moment was sort-lived, however, as the lighthearted feeling inside her was soon replaced by the unmistakable roiling in her stomach which came when she felt particularly strong magic. The feeling was strangely dark, unlike any magic she'd ever felt before, and she stopped short just as Daveth came up to stand at her side.  
  
“Wait!” she called out, and it took her a moment to realize that both Daveth and Alistair had also uttered the same warning.  
  
“Uh... What's wrong?” Jory asked, looking between the three of them.  
  
“There's darkspawn ahead,” Alistair commented.  
  
“See, ser knight?” Daveth told Jory as he unsheathed his daggers. “It's just like I said back at camp. We might be killed by darkspawn, but at least we'll be warned about it, first.”  
  
“What about you?” Jory next asked Varia, likely in an attempt to distract the others from noticing the shudder that ran through him at the thought of being killed by the creatures in question.  
  
“I felt some sort of powerful, dark magic nearby,” Varia told him before turning to Alistair. “Is there such a think as a darkspawn mage?”  
  
“They're called emissaries,” Alistair informed her with a nod. “ _Very_ dangerous.”  
  
“You've forgotten that I _also_ have magic at my command,” she reminded him. “Leave this emissary to me.”  
  
“Why did _you_ warn us to wait?” Alistair wondered, his eyebrows drawing up in confusion as he turned to Daveth, who was slowly making his way past him at the head of the group.  
  
“There's a trap just ahead of you,” Daveth replied, pointing to a spot on the ground. Varia looked, but saw nothing until he carefully knelt down and reached out to poke at a patch of grass with the tip of one of his daggers. Almost immediately, a large set of metal spikes shot up out of the ground. Varia jumped, instinctively reaching out and grasping Alistair's arm, her heart racing from the sudden scare. She certainly hadn't been able to see the trap, and she doubted Alistair or Jory had noticed it, either. If not for Daveth, at least one of them would have been severely injured – if not killed.  
  
“Well, it appears you're good for something, after all,” Jory commented, walking over to Daveth and clapping him on the shoulder.  
  
“Any more of those lying about?” Alistair asked, readying his sword and shield.  
  
“No,” Daveth assured him. “Looks like this one was poisoned, as well. Which means they've got some of the same skills I do.”  
  
Alistair didn't seem the least bit surprised by the revelation. Of course, he was a Grey Warden and probably knew all sorts of things about the darkspawn that none of them could even imagine. It made perfect sense to Varia that there should be darkspawn with the skills of rogues, however, since there were mages within their ranks.  
  
“How many of these things are we looking at, Alistair?” Jory asked, taking his place with the other two men at the head of the group, placing Varia behind them.  
  
“Five, maybe six,” Alistair told them, his face hard as he concentrated on their surroundings. “Varia, you should take on the mage, like you suggested. I'll take the leader of the group. Daveth and Jory, you split up and deal with the rest.”  
  
Varia cast a weak shield upon herself before they set off in the direction of the waiting darkspawn. She new it wouldn't hold very long but she had faith that if she ended up getting attacked at least one of the others would make it to her before the shield could break and cause her to sustain any real damage. Her fingers twitched in anticipation as they drew closer to the darkspawn, each step they took bringing them nearer to the source of the increasingly tense feeling in her stomach. She concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, drawing upon her own power rather than thinking about that of her enemy, and by the time they reached the open area where the darkspawn had made their camp she already had sparks dancing upon her fingertips.  
  
She felt the spell coming toward them rather than saw it, and yelled for the others to move as she quickly unleashed the lightning bolt she had been powering up in her hand. Sparks erupted over the field as he spell clashed with the one the emissary had cast, and before she realized it the others were fighting against the remaining darkspawn. Varia didn't bother taking any time to really make notice of where the others had run off to, choosing instead to keep her focus trained on her target as Irving had taught her. The creature was short and chubby, folds of what appeared to be decaying skin bulging out from makeshift armor pieced together from what she _hoped_ were animal hides. Varia couldn't see its eyes from the distance she was standing, and for that she was glad. She had a feeling that if she could look into those eyes, she would end up losing her nerve.  
  
The emissary readied its next spell and Varia immediately recognized it. It was a stonefist spell, one she knew would knock her down and possibly even take her out of the fight for good. To her surprise, however, the emissary didn't send the spell toward her, but in the direction of Alistair. Varia realized that the darkspawn mage was trying to protect the leader of the group and she immediately knew that she needed to do the same for her own party. She quickly cast a shield upon Alistair, leaving herself completely vulnerable as she lacked the skill to keep her own shield up at the same time, and breathed a sigh of relief when it held through the impact of the giant earthen fist which slammed into it. When the emissary began to cast a second one, she threw out another lightning bolt to interrupt the spell and followed it with a Winter's Grasp in order to buy herself some time to charge a more powerful spell of her own.  
  
Moving forward a few steps to put her in better range, she called upon the strongest element at her command and unleashed a stream of flames upon the emissary, being careful not to hit Alistair, whose fight had been inching closer and closer to her target.  To her surprise, she saw that the shield she had placed upon him was still holding strong, despite what appeared to be some rather powerful blows being landed upon him by the vicious-looking darkspawn he was fighting. Her attention was drawn away from him, however, when she heard a shout of pain coming from the other side of the camp and turned her head to find Daveth clutching his left leg with one hand as he thrust his dagger through the throat of the darkspawn he was fighting. Varia turned her back on the emissary and pooled all of her energy into a healing spell, which she sent toward Daveth just as he was being attacked by another of the darkspawn soldiers. Luckily, Jory soon joined him and the two of them took it down with ease.  
  
Unfortunately, however, Varia had let her guard down and her own enemy was about to strike while she wasn't looking. She turned back to the emissary just in time to see a nearly complete Crushing Prison spell forming in its hands. She raised her own hands in preparation to deflect the spell, but she knew that she'd never be able to charge a powerful enough lightning bolt to burn all of the power behind it. She was about to take a chance and fire off the spell, anyway, when the emissary suddenly stopped charging its spell and looked at its hands in confusion. It took Varia a moment to realize what had happened, and in that time Alistair's sword arced sharply through the emissary's body, nearly cutting it in half and sending some of its thick, black blood onto the front of her robes.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked her, stepping over the dead emissary and moving to her. He took her face in his hands and began looking her over, his eyes carefully searching her entire body for any signs of injury.  
  
“I'm fine,” she told him, still catching her breath. “What about you?”  
  
“Still in one piece, thanks to you,” he replied, flashing a smile at her before turning toward the others. “How are you two?”  
  
“I think I'll be limpin' for the next week, at least,” Daveth complained, favoring his uninjured leg.  
  
“Just be glad Varia healed you as much as she could,” Jory admonished him. “You'd probably end up _losing_ that leg if it wasn't for her, if you didn't end up simply dying from blood loss.”  
  
“I'm sorry I couldn't do more. I promise I'll do what I can for the pain when we make it back to camp,” Varia assured Daveth, but Jory help up a hand to silence her.  
  
“No,” he said to her, shaking his head. “There's no reason for you to feel sorry. You did your job. And if Daveth was better at doing _his_ job, he wouldn't be in the condition he's in right now.”  
  
“Now look here, you ungrateful lug!” Daveth growled, getting into the larger man's face. “ _Who_ was it that disarmed that trap back there? Me. _Who_ kept you from getting a pike shoved up your ass? Me! So when you get to see your pretty wife and child again, you best remember that _I_ am the one responsible for you being able to be there!”  
  
“That's enough!” Alistair shouted over their arguing. “Go get your darkspawn blood so we can continue on our way, already.”  
  
Daveth and Jory continued to stare each other down and Varia watched them carefully, looking for any sign that one or both of them might need to be restrained. She knew Alistair was strong enough to hold one or the other back, but she certainly didn't have the strength to keep whichever man he didn't grab out of the fray. Which meant she would need to use her magic. She only hoped she could control the power of her lightning spell enough to simply knock one of them out without killing him.  
  
Surprisingly, Daveth was the first to back down. He uttered a series of curses under his breath and went to the farthest darkspawn corpse he could find while Jory selected the first one he had killed to take his blood from. Varia knelt by the body of the emissary and was about to collect a vial of its blood for herself when she suddenly noticed the dark stain on the front of her new robes.  
  
“Damn!” she muttered, examining the blood more closely before turning to Alistair with a hopeful look on her face. “Please tell me this washes out.”  
  
“I don't really know. It comes easily enough off plate armor, but I've never tried to wash it from cloth. It might. It might not.”  
  
“Just my luck.” She frowned and gathered the blood Duncan had said she would need for the Joining, doing her best to not look at the mangled corpse. “I only have one other set like this.”  
  
“You could always pick up some more from the supplies the mages brought with them when we get back to camp,” he told her, and she laughed at his suggestion.  
  
“In case you haven't noticed, Alistair, elves are quite a bit smaller than humans. Any robes they brought with them would have been fitted for _human_ mages. They'd never fit me properly. Besides... These were a gift. Totally unique from the Circle robes.”  
  
“A gift?” Alistair echoed, kneeling next to her. “From your, uh... beau?”  
  
“Not for a lack of trying,” Varia replied with a smirk. “No, he's not the one I was talking about when I said I was spoken for. Anders is just a friend. A friend who I see very little of nowadays since he keeps running off and getting himself thrown into solitary, but still a friend.”  
  
“But he's another mage, yes? Your... you know.”  
  
Varia cocked her head to the side a bit and simply looked at him. He was asking an awful lot of questions about her love life. Was he genuinely curious, or maybe perhaps a bit jealous? Or was he some sort of Chantry spy trying to ferret out inappropriate relationships that were going on within the Circle?  
  
“I don't really feel comfortable discussing this right now, Alistair,” she told him after a bit of thought.  
  
“Right,” Alistair said, nodding and standing back up, avoiding looking her in the eyes as he ran a hand back through his sandy blonde hair. “Sorry. It's too personal. I shouldn't have asked.”  
  
The fact that he appeared embarrassed for having pushed her personal boundaries so far was evidence enough for her that he was not, in fact, a Chantry spy. Varia suddenly felt very bad that she ever could have imagined he _was_ one, considering how he'd treated her when they first met. Eventually, she would have to tell him about Cullen – once she was absolutely sure she could fully trust him with the secret. He might not be a Chantry spy, but he had still been training to be a templar and likely would see the relationship as sinful. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted Alistair to like her and knew that if she came out and said her significant other was a templar she would probably ruin her chances of that happening more than she already had with the revelation that she had helped a blood mage escape.  
  
“So, you can sense darkspawn?” Varia asked him, recalling how he'd known the creatures were there long before they had even seen their camp.  
  
“All Grey Wardens can sense them,” Alistair informed her. “You'll understand after the Joining, if you s-... Well, you'll understand.”  
  
“If I what?” Varia wondered, noticing his near-slip.  
  
“Now, then... What's our next move?” Jory called, and Alistair looked relieved for the distraction. He turned toward Daveth and Jory, who had apparently made amends with one another, and floundered for a moment before finally taking a good look at their surroundings.  
  
“Alistair?” Jory called out to him once more.  
  
“We need to go east of here,” Alistair announced after another moment of looking around to gather his bearings.  
  
“Lead the way,” Varia told him, tucking the capped vial of darkspawn blood she had gathered into her pack. When he didn't answer her or make a move to leave the darkspawn camp, she went up to him and laid a hand upon his cheek.  
  
“Alistair, is everything all right?” she asked him, sliding her hand up to his forehead to check for a fever. “You seem distracted.”  
  
“Fine. I'm fine,” he insisted, pulling away from her and taking a few steps backward in the direction they needed to travel before turning around and continuing along the overgrown path toward the ruins. Daveth and Jory immediately followed him, but Varia hesitated a moment before bringing up the rear.  
  
There had been something in his eyes when he told her everything was fine... something which told her he was lying.


	12. The Witches of the Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens finally track down the location of the treaties they had been sent to find, only to discover that someone else has beaten them to he punch.

 

 

**Chapter Twelve**  
  
Varia stumbled backward into the first solid object she could find, her breath coming out in rapid, shallow gasps. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she struggled to open her pack, her body sliding a bit down the trunk of the tree she was leaning against when she started to lose her footing.  
  
“Here, drink this,” Alistair instructed her, holding out a full vial of lyrium potion toward her. She attempted to take it from him, but the tremors were so bad that she dropped it to the ground at her feet. Alistair picked the vial up and uncapped it himself, then went to her and helped her drink the bright blue liquid within. The moment she swallowed the first bit down, she immediately started to feel better and by the time she had finished it she was no longer weak and struggling to stand – she was _furious_.  
  
“What in the Maker's bloody name were you thinking?!” she yelled at Daveth, taking all three of her companions by surprise. Obviously, they hadn't expected a small elven woman to be able to shout so loudly. “You almost got me killed!”  
  
“I was just checkin' out the info from this letter I found on the corpse of one of the soldiers back at the darkspawn camp,” Daveth explained, having the decency to at least _look_ remorseful for what he'd done. “I swear, I didn't know that thing was gonna pop out like that.”  
  
“Give me that,” Varia demanded, going to him and snatching the faded parchment from him. Her eyes quickly skimmed over the words, and when she had finished reading the short passage she crumpled the page in her hand and shoved it against the rogue's chest.  
  
“You idiot! Don't you know that in any sort of story where a spirit exists in the world of the living, it's more often than not a _demon_?” She berated him, her jaw clenched in fury. “Demons _crave_ mages, Daveth! They need us in order to keep a foothold in the mortal plane. While you were fighting it, it was trying to possess me! I had to deplete all of my mana just to keep it at bay while also protecting the three of you!”  
  
“But I thought demons could only take possession of a mage in the Fade,” Alistair asked, cautiously approaching her.  
  
“Normally, yes,” she confirmed, glaring at Daveth for a moment longer before turning her head to address him. “It's likely some blood mage called it out of the Fade, though, and it ended up tied to that spot. Who knows how long it was actually there, biding its time? And in that time, it was slowly building up its power, growing stronger with each passing year. When Daveth released it and it felt my magic... It immediately focused upon me. I could feel it, Alistair. I could feel its power like sick fingers trying to claw their way into my very soul.”  
  
“I truly am sorry, Varia,” Daveth apologized, scuffing his feet about like a little boy who was being scolded by his mother. “I honestly didn't know any of what you just said about mages and demons and all that. If I had, I'd never have done it.”  
  
“That's good to hear,” Jory remarked. “Don't need anyone who would _intentionally_ put one of his own in danger. Where I come from, we call people like that 'traitor' and hang them in the square for all to see.”  
  
“What's important is that everyone is safe, right?” Alistair asked, looking warily between the rogue and the mage. “Daveth... do try to be more careful, though. No more wandering off without an adult.”  
  
“Oi! I'm older than _you_!” Daveth protested amidst the laughter of his fellow recruits. Varia smiled gratefully at Alistair for having broken the tension, and he returned her smile before leading them farther along the path toward their destination.  
  
They ran into a few small groups of darkspawn soldiers along the way, but they were much weaker than the ones they had encountered in the camp. Even so, Varia kept an eye on her companions and used the strongest protection spells she was able to cast in between her usual spells. By the time they encountered the third group of weaker darkspawn in their path, she was starting to easily shift between offensive and defensive magic – thanks in no small part to the way Alistair seemed to always place himself in the way of any of the darkspawn that tried to get to her.  
  
Hours passed, and the sun was hanging lower and lower in the sky above them. Varia began to wonder if they really would end up out in the Wilds in the middle of the night, fighting against darkspawn and whatever other creatures made their homes there. She'd been fine traveling through the wooded areas with Duncan the previous night, but they had mostly been on trails that had been well-worn by traders and travelers marching from town to town. Here, they were completely engulfed by nature and anything could come out of anywhere and take them by surprise. True, they had Alistair's ability to sense the darkspawn and her acute elven hearing, but she felt so close to crashing from her lack of sleep and the amount of magical energy she had been expending throughout the day that she doubted she'd be of much help in protecting them from an ambush by wild animals or whatever else might be out there.  
  
“Here we are,” Alistair announced, stopping and pointing to what little was left of a building seated upon the crest of a hill ahead of them. “Those are the ruins where we'll find the treaties.”  
  
“Finally,” Daveth grumbled, continuing on ahead of the rest of them. “I don't know about you, but I sure ain't wastin' time and risking gettin' eaten by wolves or slaughtered by barbarians in the night.”  
  
“Agreed,” Jory said, following him. Alistair stayed behind with Varia, falling into step next to her.  
  
“You feeling okay?” he wondered, and she couldn't help chuckling at the question. He'd been asking her the same thing after every single fight they'd found themselves in. It had been sweet, at first, but after the first couple of times it began to become a bit annoying.  
  
“You don't have to constantly ask me if I'm okay, you know. I'm still standing, so that's usually a good sign.”  
  
“Sorry,” he apologized, blushing. “It's just that... After what happened with that demon, I got a bit, um... scared. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.”  
  
She stopped walking and looked up at him, and he turned to her with a confused look on his face. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat when their eyes met and she saw the true sincerity behind his words. She was going to accuse him of only being concerned about how it would look for _him_ if something happened to her, but that was obviously far from the truth.  
  
_"If anything happens to you, Varia..."_  
  
“You remind me so much of him,” she said, recalling one of the last things Cullen had said to her, a sad smile forming upon her lips.  
  
“Of who?” Alistair asked, his brow furrowing even more in his growing confusion.  
  
“The man I love.”  
  
Alistair's blush returned and he averted his gaze from hers for a moment before looking at her once more with a shy smile.  
  
“Is that a good thing?”  
  
Varia felt an excited shiver course through her and her heart sped up several beats. The combination of his smile, the look in his eyes, and the way his voice sounded when he asked the question seemed to hit some sort of emotional trigger inside her. It was completely unnerving.  
  
“Yes,” she replied, the word coming out in a quiet whisper. She quickly cleared her throat and answered him once more, her voice coming out sounding more normal but still not quite like her usual self.  
  
“He's a good man, so it's not a bad comparison.”  
  
“Well, for what it's worth, I'm happy that you feel that way.”  
  
“Come on!” Daveth called to them from the top of the hill. “It's gettin' cold out here!”  
  
Alistair waved her ahead and followed her as she ascended to the the ruins, where Daveth and Jory were waiting for them. The four of them then split up and began searching for the treaties Duncan had sent them to find. Varia wasn't sure what, exactly, they would look like, but she was sure they weren't likely to be made of stone. Unfortunately, all she could see was crumbling stone all around them upon the ground. She was about to ask Alistair if he was sure they had the right place when the dying sunlight reflected off something and caught her eye. She turned to see what it was and found the remains of a chest hiding within a pile of broken stone. It appeared to have been smashed, and though its cotents were probably long gone she decided it was best to check it out, anyway, just in case.  
  
“Well, well... What have we here?”  
  
Varia's hand hadn't even yet come into contact with what remained of the chest when she heard a voice calling out to her. Fearing that Daveth had inadvertently released another demon, she quickly turned around with her staff in hand. To her surprise, there was no demon. Instead, a woman was approaching her. She had dark hair and eerie golden eyes, and Varia felt rather overdressed compared to her attire, which consisted of some strategically-placed rags covering her breasts and some sort of leather pants with an overskirt made from what appeared to be strips of animal skin that had been sewn together.  
  
“Are you a vulture, I wonder?” the woman asked, her eyes never leaving Varia's. “A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have long since been cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”  
  
“ _Your_ Wilds?” Daveth echoed, his voice trembling. Varia turned her head to find that all three of them had come up behind her. Alistair and Jory both had their swords in their hands, but the rogue was cowering behind the two warriors, looking as though he was about to make a run for it all the way to Denerim.  
  
“What say you, hmm?” the woman addressed her, and Varia turned to look at her once more. “Scavenger or intruder?”  
  
“I would first know who _you_ are and where you came from,” she warned, calling embers to her fingers. While the woman before her _appeared_ to be human, she knew all too well that a demon could easily be lurking beneath her skin.  
  
The woman laughed. “ _You_ are the intruder, here. I believe the first question is rightfully mine.”  
  
Alistair moved to stand next to Varia, though she noticed that he was also putting himself in front of her slightly, and the woman raised an eyebrow and began to approach them as she continued to speak.  
  
“I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'Why are they here?'” She paused for a moment before them, and Varia tensed up as she simply stared at them with her strange yellow eyes. After a moment, she simply turned and walked past.  
  
“And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long,” she remarked, climbing up onto a ridge overlooking the woods they had just traveled through. “Why is that?”  
  
“Don't answer her,” Alistair warned, keeping his voice low so that only Varia could hear him.  
  
“What if she knows where the treaties are, though?” she whispered back.  
  
“We'll find them,” he assured her. “We just need to get rid of her before she... does something.”  
  
“Something? Like what?”  
  
“I don't know... Shrink our heads?”  
  
“It appears your companions are afraid of me,” the woman called to Varia, gesturing with one hand toward the men with her. “But women do not fear easily like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”  
  
“You may call me Varia,” she replied, despite Alistair's protests.  
  
“And you may call me Morrigan. Now, shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”  
  
“Here no longer?” Alistair repeated before Varia had a chance to reply, taking an angry step toward Morrigan and pointing at her. “You stole them, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky... witch-thief!”  
  
“How very eloquent,” Morrigan remarked dryly. “Tell me, how _does_ one steal from dead men?”  
  
“Quite easily, it would seem.”  
  
“Alistair, calm down,” Varia pleaded, moving to stand in front of him and placing a hand on his arm.  
  
“Those documents are property of the Grey Wardens,” he called over her head to Morrigan, “and I suggest you return them.”  
  
“I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them,” Morrigan stated, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant manner as she narrowed her eyes at Alistair. “Invoke a name which means nothing here any longer, if you wish. I do not feel threatened by the likes of _you_.”  
  
“Then who removed them?” Varia asked her before Alistair could say something to further anger the strange woman.  
  
“'Twas my mother, in fact.”  
  
“Could you please take us to her?” she requested, hoping that perhaps some politeness might get them all back in her good graces – if they had ever actually been in them, to start with.  
  
“Now _there_ is a sensible request,” Morrigan agreed, a small smile appearing upon her lips. “I like you. Follow me, then, if it pleases you.”  
  
Varia let out a relieved sigh and released Alistair's arm, but he didn't stray far from her side as the four of them began following Morrigan through the woods to wherever her mother was with the treaties they needed.  
  
“I'd be careful,” he whispered to her. “First it's, 'I like you...' but then, 'Zap!' Frog time.”  
  
“Alistair, she's not going to turn me into a frog,” Varia told him with a small laugh. “We don't even know for sure that she's a mage.”  
  
“She is,” Daveth said, keeping close to the two of them so he could speak quietly enough to not be overheard. “She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is. I can tell. She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch.”  
  
“If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'll be a nice change,” Jory muttered, blowing into his hands in a vain attempt to remove the chill from his fingers.  
  
“Even if she's not a Witch of the Wilds, just look at her,” Alistair added. “She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”  
  
“Ooh!” Morrigan exclaimed, suddenly turning around and waving her arms above her head in an exaggerated gesture. “You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”  
  
“Yes,” Alistair told her with a sneer. “Swooping is bad.”  
  
“As for you,” she continued, turning her attention to Daveth. “You believe me to be a Witch of the Wilds, hm? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?”  
  
The question was posed to both men, and she continued to look back and forth between them for a full minute before turning on her heel and putting her back to them once more.  
  
“Come. Daylight is fading fast, and if you wish to return to your camp before the _real_ monsters come out to play I suggest we continue at a greater pace.”  
  
“Apparently she has good hearing, too,” Jory commented, and the other men glared at him before following Morrigan once more.  
  
It only took a few minutes of walking to reach their destination, but those minutes were full of tension for Varia. Morrigan led them through the most densely-wooded parts of the forest, and she lost complete sight of the sky above them as the branches of the trees surrounding them threw them into near-complete darkness at times. She was beginning to think Alistair and Daveth were right and that Morrigan was leading them into some sort of trap when they finally emerged from the woods and found themselves standing in the middle of a marsh. Situated in the marsh was a small hut with a patchy herb garden out front.  
  
“What a lovely little house!” Alistair said with mock enthusiasm.  
  
“You had best keep your thoughts to yourself if you wish to get your precious treaties back,” Morrigan warned him, and Alistair grumbled but remained silent while they crossed the marsh and approached the hut.  
  
“Greetings, mother,” Morrigan called to a haggard, elderly woman who was tending to the herb patch. “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who--”  
  
“I see them, girl,” the woman interrupted as she stood, wiping her hands on the dirty apron she wore. She gave the four of them a cursory glance, her gaze lingering on Alistair a bit longer than the others, then made a disapproving sound. “Much as I expected.”  
  
“Are we supposed to believe you were _expecting_ us?” Alistair asked with a nervous laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“You are required to do nothing, least of all believe,” Morrigan's mother told him. “Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide... either way, one's a fool!”  
  
Alistair and Varia exchanged a look. He shook his head, silently dismissing her words as the ramblings of a crazy old woman, but in the back of her mind Varia was wondering if perhaps the old woman wasn't as crazy as she might seem.  
  
“She's a witch, I tell you!” Daveth warned, pointing at Morrigan and her mother and taking a large step back from the two women. “They both are. We shouldn't be talking to them!”  
  
“Quiet, Daveth!” Jory ordered him. “If she really is a witch, do you want to make her mad?”  
  
“There is a smart lad,” Morrigan's mother regarded Jory with a small smile. “Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will, for it is of no consequence to me.  
  
“And you,” she addressed Varia, taking a step closer to her and looking her over with a critical gaze. “So much about you is uncertain... and yet I believe. Do I? Why, yes! It seems I do!” She began to laugh and Morrigan sighed deeply, closing her eyes and shaking her head in exasperation.  
  
“So... _this_ is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair quietly asked Varia, sounding less than impressed, and she held her tongue. She couldn't rightly say whether or not she believed in the legends, and even if she did she was unsure what to make of the strange women who made their home in the middle of the marsh. It was obvious they were apostates, but she couldn't sense the sinister energies that were said to usually mark the dwelling of a blood mage. Then again, she hadn't sensed anything wrong with Jowan, either, so perhaps the things she had read at the tower about detecting blood magic had been inaccurate.  
  
“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother,” Morrigan complained.  
  
“True,” the old woman said, turning to nod to her daughter, and Morrigan went into the small hut. “They came for their treaties, yes? And before you go barking, your precious seals wore off long ago. I have protected these.”  
  
Morrigan, having returned from retrieving the documents in question, held treaties out to them. Alistair took them and looked them over, frowning at the broken seals and disheveled pages.  
  
“You,” he began angrily, but then what the old woman had just said suddenly registered in his mind. “Oh. You _protected_ them?”  
  
“And why not?” Morrigan's mother asked, sounding a bit offended at his surprise over her actions. “Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!”  
  
“What do you mean?” Varia asked, eying her warily. First the crazed soldier had spouted an oddly dark omen to her, and now a strange woman was telling her the Blight was worse than everyone thought. One bad omen she could overlook, but two seemed a bit too coincidental. If this woman knew something the Wardens didn't, it was her duty as a future member of their ranks to find out what it was and warn them.  
  
“Either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing. Or perhaps they realize nothing!”  
  
She began to laugh, and Varia realized that the only thing they were get out of her were more riddles and phrases than made sense only to her. She turned to Alistair for help, but he merely shrugged and held up the treaties as if to say they had what they came for and should be getting back.  
  
“Well,” she finally said, turning back to Morrigan and her mother, “thank you for taking care of the treaties, and thank you for giving them back.”  
  
“Such manners!” Morrigan's mother fawned over her. “Always in the last place you look. Like stockings!”  
  
Alistair and Varia exchanged another nervous glance as the woman began cackling at her own joke, and after a moment he cleared his throat and began to steer her away from Morrigan and her mother.  
  
“It looks like we have what we came for, so we'll just be going on our way now,” he told them.  
  
“Yes, time for you to go,” Morrigan agreed.  
  
“Do not be ridiculous, girl,” her mother scolded her. “There are your guests! The decent thing to do would be to show them the way out of these woods and back to their camp.”  
  
“Oh, very well,” Morrigan grumbled, reluctantly going to the head of the group to lead them back the way they had come. “Follow me.”  
  
Varia stayed close to Alistair the entire way back to camp, neither of them speaking. Thankfully, Daveth was all too happy to keep his mouth shut around Morrigan, and Jory wasn't a man of many words, anyway. Usually, the lack of conversation would bother Varia... but in the current situation, she found the silence of her companions comforting. It gave her the opportunity to observe Morrigan without distraction. While she had been helpful enough in assisting them with the retrieval of the treaties, there was still something off about her. Whether or not that something had to do with Morrigan being an obvious apostate, she wasn't sure, but her instincts were telling her to get far away from the woman as soon as she possibly could.  
  
“You can find your way from here, yes?” Morrigan asked, suddenly stopping. Varia looked around, trying to figured out exactly where they were, but the Wilds were a completely foreign area to her and it was nearly full dark, so she couldn't be sure of their location.  
  
“Yes, we'll be fine,” Alistair assured the woman, his tone dismissive. Morrigan didn't seem at all bothered by his rudeness, though, and simply wandered back into the woods they had just emerged from.  
  
“She might have a nice body, but that woman gave me the bloody creeps,” Daveth muttered once he believed her to be out of earshot.  
  
“I'm with you on that,” Jory remarked with a chuckle.  
  
“Let's just get back to camp,” Alistair insisted, taking the lead. “It's time for you three to undergo your Joining so you can learn what it truly means to be a Grey Warden.”


	13. The Joining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia undergoes her Joining, and it is _far_ from what she had been expecting...

 

**Chapter Thirteen: The Joining**  
  
By the time the four of them passed through the gates leading back into the king's camp, the sky had become enveloped in complete darkness. Varia noticed, as she looked up up into the night sky, that very few stars were shining in spite of the brightness of the moon. Perhaps a storm was growing near, and there were clouds covering the small, twinkling lights she'd loved to gaze at ever since she was a small child. Whatever the case, it seemed to be almost an ominous sign of things to come. She and the others were about to go through their Joining – which Alistair was _still_ being tight-lipped on the details about – and the tension in the air was thicker than the fog which rolled in off Lake Calenhad from time to time.  
  
“Ah, so you've returned,” Duncan called to them as they approached the bonfire where they had left him earlier. “Have you been successful?”  
  
“Not that it was easy,” Varia replied, casting a meaningful glance in Daveth's direction, “but yes.”  
  
“Good.” Duncan nodded, looking the three recruits over before turning to Alistair. “The Circle mages have finished the preparations while you were gone. Now that we have the blood, the Joining can begin immediately.”  
  
“Wait!” Daveth piped up. "What about them witches? Shouldn't we tell him about how they had the treaties?”  
  
“There was a woman at the tower,” Alistair explained at Duncan's confused look, “and her mother had the scrolls. They were both very... odd.”  
  
“Were they wilder folk?” Duncan asked.  
  
“I'm tellin' you, they was real, live, Witches of the Wilds!” Daveth spouted, though Duncan hadn't been addressing him.  
  
“Calm down,” Jory told him gruffly through his teeth, jabbing an elbow sharply into the rogue's side.  
  
“They _might_ be apostates,” Alistair informed Duncan, not wanting to spur Daveth on but knowing he was probably at least partly right in his assumption.  
  
“I know you were once a templar, Alistair, but Chantry business is not our own,” Duncan reminded him. “Now that we have the scrolls, we should turn our focus to the Joining.”  
  
“Right,” Alistair agreed. “To the old temple, then?”  
  
“If you don't mind, I'd like to get that flower we found to the houndmaster as soon as possible,” Varia said, taking it from the pouch at her hip.  
  
“Very well,” Duncan acquiesced, “but please be quick about it.”  
  
Varia nodded and made her way to the kennels while the others went off toward the part of the ruins where she had first met Alistair. Despite Duncan's request that she hurry along, she walked slowly toward the sound of the dogs barking. She was utterly exhausted, drained physically and mentally, and the fact that she was still able to walk was a marvel to her. By the time she reached the kennels, she felt like she could just curl up on the ground and sleep for the next two days.  
  
“Yes?” the houndmaster said when he saw her approaching. “Is there something I can do for you, Warden?”  
  
Varia smiled a little at the title, but didn't bother correcting him by letting him know she wasn't a Warden just yet. Instead, she held out the delicate white-and-red flower to him.  
  
“I was told you needed one of these in order to help a sick animal,” she informed him. He stepped toward her to get a closer look at the flower in her hands, and the frown on his face quickly turned into a bright smile.  
  
“Yeah, that's it! Wonderful!” he exclaimed, carefully taking the flower from her. “Here, let me give you a little something for your kindness.”  
  
“It's not necessary,” Varia insisted, reaching out to stop him from digging through his pockets for whatever amount of coin he had to spare. “I'm just happy knowing I could help save your hound. What's wrong with him, by the way?”  
  
The houndmaster sighed. “He ain't mine, actually. His owner died in the last battle, and the poor thing swallowed some of the darkspawn blood. Mabari might be a hearty breed, but none of them can survive that. This herb will greatly increase his chances.”  
  
“Good luck, then,” she told him and turned to leave, but he reached out and grasped her by the arm to halt her.  
  
“Could you maybe help me with one more thing?” he asked. “He needs to be muzzled to give him the medicine properly, and I don't think he has much time. I need to make the medicine, so if you could put the muzzle on him I would be even more in your debt.”  
  
“I... I don't know anything about dogs,” Varia told him, casting an apprehensive glance at the animals in the kennel. They were quite large, and could easily crush her with their weight or rip her throat out before she could even ready a spell to throw them back. She'd heard stories from Eadric about how some nobles kept mabari hounds which had been specifically trained to attack elves on sight. Not that she really thought the animals would try to hurt her... but she figured it would be better to be safe than sorry.  
  
“Why don't I get someone else to come help you?” she offered, still warily eying the beasts.  
  
“Everyone's busy getting ready for the upcoming battle. Please, it will only take a moment.”  
  
Varia sighed and hesitated another moment before nodding. The houndmaster shook her hand gratefully, then handed her a muzzle made of strong leather straps.  
  
“Let him sniff you a bit, first,” he instructed her as he opened the gate to let her into the kennel where the sick dog was being kept separate from the rest. “Once he's calm enough, you should be able to just go up to him and put that on.”  
  
The man's words did nothing to calm her nerves. If anything, they only served to make her more afraid of the hound. What if the smell of her was something he found particularly enticing? She could very well walk out of there without her best casting hand. But she had made a commitment to help the animal, and she would see it through.  
  
“Let's see if this works,” the man said hopefully as he ushered her in through the open gate. “I'd hate to have to put him down.”  
  
Varia suddenly found herself closed in the pen with a very large mabari. The animal had been asleep, and raised its head when it heard the sound of the gate shutting behind her. She tried to smile at the animal, but she knew it was more of a grimace. Very slowly, she edged her way toward the mabari, freezing in place when it sat up and licked its lips.  
  
“That's a good boy,” she told the hound, trying her best to sound kind and comforting despite the shaking of her voice. “I'm not going to hurt you.”  
  
The hound stood fully on all four of his legs and slowly approached her, his head hanging down, and Varia realized just how sick the poor animal was. No longer afraid, she went up to him and knelt before him, setting the muzzle in her lap before reaching up with both hands to scratch him behind his ears.  
  
“You don't feel well, do you, boy?” she asked, and the mabari whined pitifully. “It's okay. The kennel master is going to give you some medicine that will make you feel better. But I have to put this on you first, all right?”  
  
The hound looked down at the object sitting in her lap, then back up at her and whined again.  
  
“I know. I wouldn't want to have to wear something like this, either. But you need to trust me. Please?”  
  
The hound hesitated, its eyes moving to the muzzle once more, then he slowly came forward and rested his head in her lap. Varia carefully placed the muzzle on him, then scratched his ears once more before standing and heading out of the kennel.  
  
“Did it work?”  
  
“Yes,” she told the houndmaster. “He's been muzzled.”  
  
“Good, I can give him his medicine again,” the man said, passing her to see to the mabari.  
  
“Wait,” she called after him, and he turned to look at her. “Please, be kind to him. He seemed scared.”  
  
The houndmaster smiled at her. “I ain't never been anything but nice to the hounds in my charge, miss,” he assured her. “You don't need to worry. He's in good hands.”  
  
Varia nodded and turned to go join the other recruits, but this time the houndmaster called after her.  
  
“Why don't you come back later, once he's better, and we can see about maybe imprinting him on you?”  
  
“Like I said before, I don't know anything about dogs,” Varia informed him, shaking her head.  
  
“You don't need to, really,” he assured her. “Mabari are smart, like we are. They were bred that way. All you need to do is treat him with kindness and respect, provide him with a place to sleep and something to eat and drink, and you'd do fine.”  
  
“We'll see,” she replied, a bit reluctant to take on such a large beast as a companion. “I really must go, now, though.”  
  
She continued on her way to meet the others, stopping one of the guards to ask which direction they had gone off in, and eventually found herself back where she had first met Alistair earlier in the day. And, just like before, she heard the sounds of an argument brewing as she approached.  
  
“The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like about it,” Jory was complaining, pacing back and forth nervously.  
  
“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth berated him, and Varia couldn't help smiling at the sudden reversal of their roles.  
  
“Why all these damned tests?” Jory asked of no one in particular. “First the tournament in Highever, then that trip into the Wilds, and now this... Have I not earned my place already?”  
  
“Maybe it's tradition,” Daveth offered, shrugging. “Maybe they're just doing it to annoy you.”  
  
“I only know my wife is in Highever with a child on the way,” Jory said, sounding pitifully homesick. “If I had known... If they had warned me... It just doesn't seem fair.”  
  
“Would you have come if they warned you?” Daveth asked him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm guessing no. Maybe that's why they _don't_ warn us. The Wardens do what they must, right?”  
  
“Including _sacrificing_ us?”  
  
Varia was suddenly quite alert, wondering if she'd heard him right. They were to be _sacrificed_? No... That couldn't be right. What good would killing them do to help quell the Blight? Besides, Duncan had stated how much they needed Wardens to fight against the darkspawn. Whatever Jory had heard about this Joining ritual, he must have misunderstood it.  
  
“I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight,” Daveth said with great conviction, taking Varia by surprise. It was the most serious she had seen him in the brief time she'd known him, and she suddenly found herself respecting him much more than she previously had.  
  
“You saw those darkspawn, ser knight,” he continued, going up to Jory and putting a hand on his shoulder as he looked him square in the eye. Jory shuddered at the memory of the creatures they had fought, nodding his head, and Daveth continued. “Wouldn't you _gladly_ die to protect your pretty wife and child from them?”  
  
“I... suppose,” Jory acquiesced.  
  
“Maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll _all_ die,” Daveth said, pausing to cast a glance in her direction. “But if nobody stops the darkspawn, then we'll die for sure.”  
  
“I've just never faced a foe that I could not engage with my blade. But you're right.”  
  
“At last we come to the Joining,” Duncan stated as he came up behind her, holding an ancient-looking goblet in his hands. He walked over to a stone table – the only real structure remaining in what had apparently once been a temple of some sort - and set the goblet down. Varia and the others went to stand around the front of the table, while Alistair joined Duncan behind it.  
  
“The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”  
  
“We're... going to drink the blood of those... those _creatures_?” Jory asked, the fear returning to his voice.  
  
“As the first Grey Wardens did before us,” Duncan answered with a nod, “as we did before you. _This_ is the source of our power and victory.”  
  
“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint,” Alistair added. “We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon.”  
  
“Those who _survive_?” Varia echoed, looking at him accusingly. She'd known there was something he was hiding about this entire ordeal, something he was refusing to tell her, but she hadn't expected it to be something quite that dire. It seemed that Jory had been partly right about them being sacrificed, after all.  
  
“Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed,” Duncan explained. “This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we must pay.  
  
“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?”  
  
Alistair nodded and bowed his head, his eyes falling closed as if in prayer. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish,” he concluded, opening his eyes and looking directly at Varia, “know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that, one day, we shall join you.”  
  
“Daveth,” Duncan called the rogue's name, picking up the goblet and holding it out toward him. “Step forward.”  
  
Varia watched as Daveth drank from the goblet, slowly backing away from him out of fear of what sort of change might come over him. He winced at the taste of the liquid in the goblet, but otherwise it didn't seem to affect him. Then, suddenly, he gripped his stomach with both hands and doubled over, screaming in pain. He fell to his knees, and Varia watched as some sort of thick, dark substance traveled through the veins in his neck and face. His blue eyes turned a startling white as his entire body began to convulse violently, and then he pitched forward and laid on the ground, motionless. She didn't need to ask if he was going to be all right. She knew he was dead.  
  
“Maker's breath,” Jory gasped, backing away from the scene.  
  
“I am sorry, Daveth,” Duncan whispered, kneeling next to the rogue's body and closing his eyelids. He then turned his attention to the warrior.  
  
“Step forward, Jory.”  
  
“But... I have a wife,” Jory protested. “A child! Had I known...”  
  
“There is no turning back,” Duncan told him, firmly, and the determined look in his dark eyes scared Varia. She held her breath as she watched Jory unsheathe his sword, wondering what he was going to do.  
  
“No!” he said, shaking his head as he continued to back away from Duncan, who paused in advancing upon him to set the goblet back upon the altar. “You ask too much! There is no glory in this!”  
  
Varia's eyes went wide when Duncan removed one of  his daggers from his belt and continued advancing upon Jory. Surely, he didn't mean to use physical force to make Jory submit to the Joining? In the end, however, it was worse than she imagined. Jory attempted to fight his way past Duncan, probably thinking he could best the older man and run away back to his family, but Duncan easily deflected the knight's blade and sunk his own through a gap in Jory's armor, all the way to the hilt.  
  
“I am sorry,” he told the warrior, pulling his blood-stained dagger free and watching his lifeless body fall to the ground at his feet. A brief look of remorse crossed his face, but in a moment it was gone and once more replaced with the hard, determined expression from before. Varia gaped in horror at the scene, taking several steps back as the blood continued to run out and pool on the ground around Jory's body.  
  
“But the Joining is not yet complete,” she heard Duncan say, watching him set the bloody dagger down on the altar before he picked up the goblet and turned toward her.  
  
“You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good,” he told her, holding the goblet out to her expectantly.  
  
Varia hesitantly took it from him, staring silently at its contents. She didn't want to die. She wanted to see her mother again and have a chance to tell Cullen she loved him one last time. She wanted to go to all the places she had only read about in books and experience life outside the tower in a way most other mages were only able to dream of. She knew now, though, that if she refused Duncan would not hesitate to cut her down. Her eyes fell to Daveth's body and she wondered if she would experience the same pain and suffering he had in her final moments.  
  
“You can do this.”  
  
She looked up at Alistair and found him watching her nervously. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and brought the goblet to her lips and drank from the dark liquid within. The taste was horrible, and she began coughing uncontrollably as she passed the goblet back to Duncan, but she felt otherwise unaffected. Next to her, she heard Alistair breathe a sigh of relief.  
  
“From this moment forth,” Duncan told her, “you are a Grey Warden.”  
  
Varia whimpered and grabbed her head as she was suddenly hit with a wave of intense pain and dizziness, and she wondered if maybe she still wasn't out of the woods. She willed herself to fight against it, reminding herself of all the things she had to live for, but she couldn't stop it. It felt like her brain was on fire, and it was all she could do to remember to breathe. Everything around her went bright, and then it was suddenly all dark.  
  
She thought she was dead... but something wasn't right. You were supposed to travel through the Fade to the Maker's side when you died, but there was nothing. No warmth, no comforting light, no sign of her father waiting for her. It was as if the world had simply ceased to exist.  
  
Then the nightmare began.  
  
Suddenly, where there had been darkness there was fire. _Everywhere_. The entire world was burning, and she was surrounded by flames and the sound of voices pleading and screaming. Within the flames, she could just barely make out the shapes of some sort of twisted, dark creatures - perhaps they were darkspawn, but she couldn't be sure. Above her, dragons flew around and swooped down out of the sky, renewing the fires with their breath and grasping up those who tried to flee in their giant, sharp claws. Broken bodies fell all around her, landing at her feet, their lifeless eyes staring up at her. She wanted to run, but she couldn't get herself to move... wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn't open. Then out of the flames came the largest, most horrific-looking dragon she had ever seen. It walked toward her, its evil, glowing eyes fixated upon her, then suddenly broke out into a run and charged at her with a great roar. At the same time, the rest of the dragons and the other creatures within the flames began to rapidly descend upon her, and the sound of their triumphant cries filling her ears was deafening.  
  
Varia suddenly opened her eyes, gasping for breath, and threw herself into Alistair's arms. She was back in the real world – but that dream had seemed so real, too. She shook in fear at the memory of it, clinging to him, and Alistair held her close and gently stroked her hair as he whispered comforting words to her.  
  
“It's all right,” he told her, closing his eyes and resting his chin on top of her head. “We all experience the nightmares during our Joining. You're okay, now. We're here for you.”  
  
He began to rock her slightly and looked up to find Duncan smiling at the two of them. A blush rose in his cheeks as he realized how inappropriately he was acting, and he slowly released her and turned his attention to her tear-streaked face.  
  
“I told you that you could do it,” he said, smiling at her. Varia smiled a little and reached up with one hand to brush away her tears.  
  
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, referring to her nightmare, and she shook her head emphatically.  
  
“Absolutely not,” she replied. “I don't want to ever think about it again.”  
  
Alistair and Duncan shared a look with one another, but said nothing. They had both experienced the nightmares, both new how much they had been affected by them, but they wouldn't push her. She could talk to them whenever she was ready.  
  
“How do you feel?” Duncan questioned her, thinking she should at least be willing to discuss her physical state.  
  
“That was actually _worse_ than the Harrowing, believe it or not,” she told him, and he chuckled in response.  
  
“You would know about that much better than I,” he said.  
  
“I still can't believe you killed Jory,” she added, and Duncan once more looked remorseful for his actions.  
  
“It brought me no pleasure to end his life,” he admitted. “Jory was warned that there would be no turning back, however, and when he went for his blade, he left me no choice. The Blight demands sacrifices from us all. Thankfully, you remain here as proof that they are not all made in vain.”  
  
“Two more deaths,” Alistair remarked, looking over Varia's head at the bodies of Daveth and Jory lying still upon the ground and shaking his head ruefully. “In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was... horrible. I'm glad at least one of you made it through.”  
  
“I wish I could say you may rest for the remainder of the night, but the king wishes to see us,” Duncan told Varia, sighing a bit.  
  
“He wants to see _me_?” Varia asked, wondering what King Cailan would want with an elven mage. Then again, she was also a Grey Warden now and she knew of his fascination with the order. Perhaps he wanted an opportunity to congratulate those who had survived the Joining, personally.  
  
“Take a moment to rest and gather yourself, and when you are ready meet me in the area just west of here. You should be able to find it by following the sound of General Loghain bellowing.”  
  
Duncan bowed to her and left to go meet with the king ahead of her, and Alistair sighed as he watched him walk away.  
  
“And once again, I am left out of things,” he muttered bitterly, and Varia raised an eyebrow at his remark. He merely smiled at her and helped her to stand, making sure she was steady on her feet before completely releasing his hold on her.  
  
“Are you _sure_ you're okay?” he asked her, not wanting to leave her alone in a fragile state – either physical or mental. He wasn't expecting the slap which connected with his face in response to the question.  
  
“You _knew_ I could die, and you didn't _warn_ me? No... You almost did tell me, didn't you?” she accused, remembering his near-slip earlier.  
  
“I _wanted_ to warn you, believe me,” Alistair calmly replied, rubbing his stinging cheek. “Maker, I wanted to. It's not fair that you walk into all of this totally blind, I know – I've been there. But Daveth had a good point: If we told everyone _exactly_ what to expect, then how many people do you think would ever actually come forward wanting to be Wardens?”  
  
“Probably not many, if any at all,” she reluctantly admitted, seeing his point. Self-preservation was a need she understood quite well, being a mage. You did what you had to in order to survive, and chancing your own death wasn't exactly the best way to keep yourself safe.  
  
“Here,” he said after a moment, taking one of her hands in his and depositing something into it. Varia looked down and found some sort of small, vial-like object on a chain sitting in her palm.  
  
“We take some of the blood from our Joining and put it in a pendant,” he explained. “Something to remind us... of those who didn't make it this far.”  
  
“Thank you,” Varia told him, closing her fingers around the pendant. Alistair continued to hold her hand in his own, absent-mindedly caressing the side of her thumb with his, and it wasn't until she said his name that he snapped out of whatever reverie he had been lost in.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, quickly releasing her hand and blushing. “Um... You should probably go see what Cailan wants, like Duncan asked.”  
  
“Not looking like this, I'm not.” She made a face and gestured toward the ichor-stained robes she was wearing, shaking her head. “I'm a Warden now, so I should probably at least make myself _somewhat_ presentable before I go to see the king.”  
  
She turned on her heel and left the ruined temple, and Alistair's gaze lingered upon her the entire time. Once she had disappeared from his line of sight, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, shaking the crazy thoughts from his head before following after her.


	14. The Tower of Ishal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia and Alistair receive a seemingly mundane task, but it turns out to be far more difficult than either of them could have ever expected.

 

 

 **Chapter Fourteen: The Tower of Ishal**  
  
Varia eventually found her larger pack full of belongings next to the bonfire Duncan had set up in the middle of the King's Camp. She carefully checked the items inside, making sure nothing had been stolen while it was unguarded, then dug out the spare set of robes Anders had gotten her. Standing up, she looked around for somewhere she could change privately. She supposed she could go behind some of the nearby trees for cover, but anyone could easily walk over there without warning. She was about to give up and simply go to the meeting in her stained robes when her eyes fell upon the large, golden canopy of King Cailan's tent. She chewed nervously upon her lower lip, wondering if she could pull off a daring feat such as the one she had in mind, then decided it couldn't hurt to at least try.  
  
“Yes?” the guard posted outside the tent addressed her upon her approach, giving her a contemptuous glare.  
  
“I've come to tidy the king's tent, ser,” she lied, then held up her robes just enough to flash some of the cloth without allowing him to see the feathers and other adornments. “I also brought his clean washing.”  
  
“Very well,” the guard said, stepping aside and opening the tent flap. “Just keep your filthy fingers off His Majesty's personal effects. Bloody knife-ears.”  
  
The last part was muttered under his breath as he allowed the tent flap to fall closed again, and Varia let out a weary sigh. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be called that horrid name. Some of the other apprentices had teased her after she first arrived at the Circle, chanting it over and over whenever they saw her until she'd run off and hide. Then, one day, they simply stopped. It turned out that Jowan had gotten Daylen Amell – who was the largest and most imposing of the male apprentices, at the time – to threaten bodily harm to anyone who continued to harass her.  
  
She quickly began to undress from her stained robes, knowing she didn't have much time before the guard outside would demand that she hurry up with her 'duties' and get out of there. She fumbled a bit with the fasteners at the back of her neck, her brain not quite functioning at its full capacity between her lack of sleep and the trauma of the Joining, but she eventually managed to get them unhooked. She had just slid the stained robes off when the flap of the tent opened behind her without warning. Squeaking in surprise, she quickly picked up her robes to cover herself and turned her head to see who had come in. She had been expecting the guard, or perhaps King Cailan since she was in his tent, but instead she found Alistair staring at her. His face was red as an apple and his hazel eyes looked like they were about to jump out of their sockets. For a moment, he simply continued staring at her in her state of undress, then he averted his gaze and held out a basin full of water toward her.  
  
“I thought you might want to wash up a bit,” he offered, trying his best not to look at her. He'd already seen enough, though. Apparently, the mages of the Circle didn't have their undergarments supplied by the Chantry, because there had been _far_ more skin showing than he would have expected. And those stockings... Maker, but they made her legs look so very enticing. He quickly pushed all of the impure thoughts from his brain and once more held out the basin toward her, swearing under his breath when some of the water sloshed out over his hands.  
  
“Thank you, Alistair,” Varia told him, still holding her robes up with one hand to cover her front half as she carefully took the basin from him. “Now that you're here, would you mind staying until I'm finished changing?”  
  
Alistair nodded, not trusting his voice, and turned around to give her some privacy. He could hear the water splashing around as she quickly washed the dust and blood from her skin, and it was all he could do to not turn his head just the tiniest bit in order to steal a glance in her direction. She was his sister-in-arms now, and he didn't need to be thinking about her like that and making their relationship awkward right from the start. Besides...  
  
“Now that we're alone, perhaps you can tell me some more about your beau?” he wondered, reminding himself that she already had a man in her heart and didn't need him vying for her affections in his absence.  
  
“He's a templar. That's why I didn't want to talk about him before,” she explained. “I was afraid that Daveth wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut and would end up blabbing about it to one of the mages here. Then it would end up getting back to the tower and Cullen would have been ruined.”  
  
“ _Cullen_?” Alistair repeated the other man's name, his head whipping around to look at her. Luckily, she had already put on her second set of robes, so he didn't find himself once again staring at her nearly-nude figure.  
  
“Yes,” Varia said with a nod, her eyes wide at his reaction. “Do you know him?”  
  
“Sort of. We were in training at the Denerim chantry at the same time. The Revered Mother used to put us together for sparring practice.”  
  
Alistair had a hard time believing that twit was her lover. For as innocent and inexperienced as he was, Cullen was ten times worse. He'd had a completely sheltered life, growing up in a devoutly Maker-fearing family, and even entered the Chantry's training of his own volition at the age of thirteen. Sure, his devotion to the Maker made him an ideal templar... but in Alistair's opinion, he was certainly no man. Apparently, he'd changed after going to Kinloch Hold.  
  
“Anyway, my relationship with Cullen is why I would have agreed to help Jowan escape the tower even if I hadn't been under the First Enchanter's orders to do so in order to lay a trap for him,” Varia continued, pulling the ribbon out of her hair and letting it fall down around her shoulders.  
  
“Why is that?” Alistair asked, his eyes transfixed upon the way she ran her long, slender fingers through the golden locks, combing them as best she could before pulling the mass up once more and fastening the yellow satin ribbon back into a bow around it.  
  
“He had fallen in love with a young woman, an initiate of the Chantry.”  
  
“Maker, is there a _single mage_ within that tower who isn't involved with a member of the Chantry?” Alistair groused, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown and shaking his head, causing Varia to laugh.  
  
“We can't control who we love, Alistair,” she told him, shrugging a bit.  
  
“Right,” Alistair muttered, still frowning. “Well, you best hurry along, if you're finished getting ready. After all, if the king wants to see you and Duncan, you probably shouldn't keep him waiting. He might get mad, start crying, you'll feel bad, and... well, it won't be pretty.”  
  
He winked at her and Varia smiled at him. She couldn't be entirely sure if he was really okay with what she had just told him or if he was just acting like it didn't bother him to help put her at ease. Either way, though, she knew he was right and she didn't have time to stick around and continue discussing the matter. She quickly thanked him and gathered up her soiled robes, then exited the tent and went back to the bonfire to shove them into her pack before making her way to the area Duncan had indicated he was heading to. Like he'd said, she could hear the yelling of General Loghain long before she even had the man in her sights.  
  
“I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!”  
  
“It is not a fool notion,” Cailan calmly replied, though Varia could tell from his expression that he was barely keeping his own temper in check. “Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past... and you _will_ remember who is king.”  
  
“How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century,” the general lamented, bringing a hand to his head wearily. It appeared this was a common debate between the two men. Varia simply held her tongue as she stepped up next to Duncan, and he regarded her with a nod before returning his attention to the scene playing out before them.  
  
“Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?” Cailan asked before turning to address the two Wardens. “Duncan, are your men ready for battle?”  
  
“They are, Your Majesty,” Duncan assured him with a respectful bow.  
  
“Ah, and this is the young woman I was telling you about earlier, Loghain,” the king remarked, turning his attention fully upon her and flashing a wide grin. “I understand congratulations are in order.”  
  
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Varia replied blushing a bit.  
  
“I only wish your fellow recruits could also be standing here with you. Every Grey Warden is needed now.”  
  
“Your Majesty,” a voice interrupted, and Varia winced. She knew that voice. Every time she'd heard it over the years it made her feel like she was listening to nails being dragged across a chalk board. It belonged to none other than Senior Enchanted Uldred, the man who had first discovered Jowan's use of blood magic at the tower.  
  
“If I may,” he continued without waiting for the king to acknowledge him, “The Circle of Magi--”  
  
“We will _not_ trust any lives to your spells, mage!” interrupted a Revered Mother of the Chantry, chasing him down.  
  
“Need I remind you that the king himself asked us to come here to lend support in this battle?” Uldred argued.  
  
“Enough!” Loghain said, slamming an armored fist down on the table they were all standing around. “See to it that this mage finds his way back to the rest, would you?”  
  
Varia looked to the general. Had she just imagined it, or had there been a substantial amount of venom in his voice when he spoke about sending Uldred back to the others. Was he against the use of magic, or was he simply so tired of the interruptions that he was taking his frustration out on whoever happened to be the most recent person to barge into their meeting?  
  
“Now, then,” he said as Uldred was being led away by a member of the king's personal guard, once again sounding calm and authoritative. “Cailan, do you remember the plans we discussed earlier?”  
  
Varia only half-listened to the two men discussing the attack plans. She had no knowledge of military strategy, but she knew enough about General Loghain to know that they should trust his judgment and follow whatever orders he might give them. She looked over to Duncan and found him scowling a bit, but didn't dare ask him what was wrong for fear that the general's wrath would next fall upon her head.  
  
“Who shall light this beacon?” Cailan asked, tapping his finger to a spot near the center of the map which was laid out on the table.  
  
“I have a few men stationed there,” Loghain informed him. “It's not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital.”  
  
“Then we shall send our best,” Cailan said, looking up to Duncan. “Send Alistair and the new Warden here to make sure that it's done.”  
  
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Duncan agreed, “though you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing.”  
  
“There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds,” Loghain asserted.  
  
“Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?” Cailan inquired.  
  
“I... Yes, Your Majesty,” Duncan replied. Varia hadn't missed his hesitation to answer in the affirmative, though. Was he _really_ concerned that the archdemon was going to show up during the battle?  
  
“Then this plan will suffice,” Loghain acquiesced. “The Grey Wardens shall light the beacon.”  
  
“Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment!” Cailan beamed, pumping his fists and grinning in triumph. “The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!”  
  
“Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all,” Loghain stated, and the indifferent tone of his voice sent a shudder through Varia's entire body. She watched the general walk away, followed by the king and the rest of his personal guard, then turned to Duncan with a sigh.  
  
“So... What if the archdemon really _does_ show itself during this battle?” she finally voiced her concern.  
  
“We soil our drawers, that's what.”  
  
She turned her head to find Alistair walking up behind her to join them. He smiled at her, but the smile fell when he turned his attention to Duncan and saw the stern look on the older man's face.  
  
“If it does, leave it to us,” Duncan answered her question, though he seemed to be speaking more to Alistair than to her. “I want no heroics from either of you.  
  
“Now, you heard the plan,” he added, nodding to Varia. “You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit, then wait there for word to join us should we need you.”  
  
“What? I won't be in the battle?” Alistair blurted out angrily.  
  
“This is by the king's personal request, Alistair,” Duncan told him firmly. “If the beacon is not lit, Teryn Loghain's men won't know when to charge.”  
  
“So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right? We should be in the battle, you know that!” Alistair argued.  
  
“That is not your choice to make, Alistair. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there.”  
  
“Fine,” Alistair reluctantly agreed. “But just to make this clear: if the king asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line.”  
  
Varia burst out into a fit of giggles at the thought Alistair dancing around in a dress. Duncan looked rather crossly at her, but she couldn't help herself. She had moved on from the completely exhausted phase to what she and her friends at the tower liked to call the 'giggle phase,' where one was so tired that anything which was even the slightest bit funny made you laugh like a madman.  
  
“I... I think I'd... like to see that,” she managed to say to Alistair through her laughter.  
  
“For _you_ , maybe,” Alistair told her with a smirk. “But it would have to be a _pretty_ dress.”  
  
Duncan cleared his throat loudly, and Varia struggled to reign her laughter back in. Once she had calmed down a bit, he addressed them both.  
  
“I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title.”  
  
His words had an instant sobering effect on both of them. Varia knew he was right. They were Grey Wardens – members of a group of skilled and respected warriors. It was their duty to do what was expected of them, whether that be slaughtering darkspawn en masse or simply seeing to it that a beacon was lit atop a tower.  
  
“Duncan,” Alistair addressed him, his expression grim. “May the Maker watch over you.”  
  
“May he watch over us all,” Duncan responded, bowing to them both before heading off to join the rest of the Wardens who would be fighting alongside King Cailan and his men.  
  
The two of them watched him walk away in silence, and Varia felt a strange sense of foreboding hit her. She quickly shook it off, though. After all, she had seen first-hand the capable fighter he was during their trip from Kinloch Hold. And with someone as talented in military strategy as General Loghain calling the shots, they were sure to be victorious.  
  
Alistair gently placed a hand in the small of her back and began steering her back toward the camp Duncan had set up. She was surprised to see that nearly the entire area was devoid of life, the only remaining people milling about being the houndmaster and the quartermaster. They stopped to restock their personal supplies of potions, still not speaking to one another, and Varia cast a glance over her shoulder to find Alistair looking rather worried.  
  
“Everything will be fine,” she assured him, though she had no real way of knowing how the battle would turn out.  
  
“I'm glad _you_ think so,” he scoffed.  
  
“What's _really_ bothering you about all this?” she wondered, sensing it had to do with something more than just his desire to be a part of the battle.  
  
“Nothing,” Alistair insisted, grabbing his sword and shield and standing up. Somewhere in the distance, Varia heard hundreds of men shouting followed by the distinct metal-on-metal clanging sound which indicated that the battle had already begun.  
  
“Come on,” he urged her, gesturing in the direction of the bridge with his head. “The tower is on the other side of the ruins. The faster we get this done, the sooner we can join in the battle.”  
  
“Duncan said we were to stay put until he sends for us,” Varia reminded him, rushing to keep up with his longer strides.  
  
“I don't care what Duncan said,” Alistair defiantly told her. “I'm _going_ to be in this battle, whether he likes it or not.”  
  
Varia blinked in surprise at how angry he sounded, but looking at his face she saw more sadness and disappointment there than anything else. There was certainly something he wasn't telling her, but this was neither the time nor the place to push him for the truth. They had a job to do, and she wouldn't let Duncan regret his decision to take her away from the Circle by missing the signal to light the beacon just so she could slake her curiosity.  
  
Things were already in full swing when they reached the bridge, and Varia looked on in awe at the sight before her. Soldiers lined the bridge, some of them shooting arrows and others loading ballistae to fire at the enemy below. A peek over the side showed her hundreds, if not _thousands_ of figures locked in a fierce battle. It was hard to tell which were darkspawn and which ones were human, from the height she was at, but a glance into the distance made her blood run cold. Darkspawn were continuously marching out of the forest, carrying torches. She wondered if they meant to try to burn down what remained of the ruins, or perhaps they would set the forest around them on fire and trap them all there in order to slaughter the lot of them more easily.  
  
Suddenly, a flash of lightning lit up the dark sky above and rain started pouring down on their heads. It was almost as if the Maker had pulled a lever which overturned a giant trough of water on top of them. She felt Alistair grab her hand and pull her back away from the edge of the bridge, and he leaned down close to address her.  
  
“Come on!” he shouted over the sounds of the rain and the battle raging below them.  
  
Still holding her hand, they began making their way quickly across the bridge, pausing only to avoid being hit by return fire from the crude catapults the darkspawn were using to try to knock the archers off the bridge. At one point, they were nearly hit when an artilleryman rushing to take more arrows to the archers bumped into them, causing Varia to slip on the wet stone beneath her feet and lose her footing. Alistair hastily pulled her to her feet and she had just barely gotten up and moved away from where she had fallen when a flaming ball of debris landed right where she had been.  
  
By the time they got to the stairs leading to the courtyard surrounding the Tower of Ishal, Varia's robes were entirely soaked through and she was shivering from the cold. She would be grateful once they were finally in the tower, out of the pouring rain, but it seemed that wouldn't come as soon as she would have liked. They were met by three men – a solider, an archer, and a mage she didn't recognize, all of whom were wearing tabards over their armor and robes bearing the king's crest – who informed them that darkspawn had somehow infiltrated the tower.  
  
“Finally, some action!” Varia heard Alistair mutter under his breath before running ahead into the courtyard, accompanied by the other warrior and the archer. She immediately cast a shield upon him to help defect any blows he might receive from the darkspawn he encountered, then began searching for a target of her own. To her surprise, she could actually sense how many were present and where they were located even though she couldn't see them. Apparently, he hadn't been bluffing about the Joining giving them that specific ability.  
  
It didn't take very long for the five of them to clear out all of the darkspawn, and soon they were sanding before the front doors of the Tower of Ishal. To Varia's dismay, the other mage volunteered to go inform the rest of the Wardens that the darkspawn had somehow managed to make it past their defenses at the tower. She watched him run off, her stomach clenching in worry. He'd been a healer. Without his skill in the art of restorative magic she was unsure they'd make it to the top in order to light the signal – especially if they had to face more darkspawn once inside.  
  
“Ready?” Alistair asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, knowing she most certainly looked as frightened and worried as she felt, and he merely squeezed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile.  
  
“Let's do this,” he told her. “Together.”  
  
“Together,” she agreed with a single nod of her head, reaching up and placing her hand upon his own. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then opened them and looked up to him once more. At her nod, he opened the heavy door of the tower's entrance and they walked in side-by-side.  


* * *

  
  
“Maker's breath!” Alistair swore as they climbed up to the top floor of the tower, shaking his head. “What are all these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the Horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!”  
  
Varia let out a mirthless laugh and sat down on one of the steps, taking a moment to catch her breath while removing her slipper and shaking out a pebble of broken stone that had somehow managed to get trapped inside.  
  
“Weren't you complaining earlier that you wouldn't get to fight?” she pointed out to him.  
  
“You're right.” Alistair chuckled. “I suppose there's a silver lining to all this, if you think about it.”  
  
Varia sighed and placed her slipper back on her foot, then stood and stepped closer to him, lowering her voice so the two men with them wouldn't overhear her next question.  
  
“Do you think all these darkspawn being here could be a sign that the archdemon is close by?”  
  
“Maker, I hope not,” Alistair replied with a shudder. “I'm too new to all this, yet. I wouldn't know the first thing to do if we had to fight that thing.”  
  
“Killing it would probably be the best course of action, don't you think?” Varia offered.  
  
“What are we killing?” the archer asked, coming up to where they were standing on the stairs.  
  
“Whatever is behind this door here,” Alistair told him, then continued the rest of the way to the top and opened the door to the final floor of the tower. As soon as he opened it, however, he froze.  
  
“What is it?” Varia wondered, coming up behind him. She, too, froze at the sight before them: a giant ogre was kneeling on the far side of the room, eating what appeared to be one of the king's soldiers. She covered her mouth to keep from screaming in horror as the creature ripped the head from its meal and popped it into its mouth like one would a grape plucked fresh from the vine, and had to swallow heavily several times to keep down the bile that was creeping up the back of her throat.  
  
Unfortunately, the soldier behind them was unable to keep himself composed and he threw up all over the floor at her feet. The retching of the man drew the ogre's attention directly to them, and before she had a chance to think of what spell might work best against a creature of its size it was barreling across the room in their direction. She quickly jumped out of its path, firing off a Winter's Grasp in an attempt to slow it down, but the spell only marginally impeded its movements. She watched as it picked up the archer and snapped him in half like a twig, then it tore the man's body in two and held one half in each hand as it turned around and let out a fierce roar.  
  
Next, she conjured the strongest Stonefist she could and sent it flying directly into the creature's chest, staggering it for a few steps and giving Alistair and the other warrior the opportunity to move into a better position to strike. The king's man moved in first, just as Varia sent a barrage of sparks toward the ogre, and he ended up getting caught in one of its large fists and crushed. By the time the ogre threw him across the room like a rag doll, it was quickly closing in on her. In a final act of desperation, she held her hands before her and channeled flames at the giant creature. Thankfully, they caught on the leather armor scraps it was wearing, and it roared loudly as it tried to snuff out the flames with its giant hands. Its roars soon became intermingled with more shouting as Alistair leapt into the air and came down with his sword poised to strike. Varia watched as the blade sank into the side of the ogre's neck nearly to the hilt, then Alistair pulled it out and plunged it back in once more before the ogre finally managed to reach up to its back with one hand and fling him off. She quickly placed a shield upon him, and it absorbed most of the impact when his body hit the wall.  
  
Letting out a strangled cry of fear, she shut her eyes tight and called upon all of the magic within her, releasing the strongest lightning bolt she could muster in the ogre's direction. A moment later, she heard the the large body fall heavily to the floor and opened her eyes to find it still twitching slightly, smoke rising from the places where its decaying flesh had been burned by her spells. Looking upon it, a flash of a memory suddenly came to her mind: a man in dark leathers, burned and twitching at her feet, looking up at her with dead eyes. She shook her head and slowly backed away from the ogre, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, and didn't stop until her back hit the wall. She remembered, now. Everything they said about her, the story Duncan had relayed to her at the inn on Lake Calenhad... it was all true. She'd been scared for her life, then, just as she was now – and the result had been the same.  
  
“We've surely missed the signal by now. Light the beacon!” Alistair called to her, pulling himself up from where he had landed on the floor. Remembering where she was and what she was doing, she shook away the memories haunting her mind and went over to the fire pit. Not finding any torches nearby, she used her magic to light the flames needed to signal General Loghain to send his men in.  
  
“Are you okay?” she called to Alistair as she turned to him and began making her way across the room to assess his injuries and heal him as best she could.  
  
“I'm fine,” he attempted to assure her, wincing as he grasped at his side and hobbled slightly over to one of the broken windows in order to assess the standing of the battle going on far below them.  
  
“What the... What is he _doing_?”  
  
“What is it?” Varia wondered, rushing over to his side. Alistair simply pointed and she followed his gaze to whatever had caused his outburst. The sight was enough to make her heart stop: General Loghain's men weren't charging into the battle, they were walking _away_ from it.  
  
“Why would he do this?” Alistair asked, wincing again at the pain in his side. Varia placed one of her hands on top of his and sent a pulse of healing magic into the wound, shaking her head solemnly. She really had no idea what to say to him, because she couldn't understand why Loghain wasn't leading his men into the battle as he had planned, either.  
  
“Let's just get you out of here,” she told him after a moment. “I've done all I really can, as far as healing your wounds. We'll go back to camp and wait for the others to return, and then Wynne can finish mending you.”  
  
“I need to get down there. Duncan needs me,” Alistair insisted, trying to push her off him only to stumble and fall against her. Varia nearly ended up collapsing under his weight, but managed to help him back to his feet with a heavy sigh.  
  
“You're no good to _anyone_ like this, Alistair,” she pointed out to him. “We're going back to camp to wait. No more arguments.”  
  
Alistair grumbled in protest, but held his tongue and allowed her to lead him carefully around the dead ogre and back to the door they'd entered the room from. They had nearly made it there when both of them suddenly felt the distinct presence of darkspawn approaching.  
  
“I thought we killed them all,” Varia remarked, still holding him up for balance.  
  
“We did,” Alistair said, pushing off from her and readying his sword.  
  
“Alistair--”  
  
“I'm fine,” he cut off her warning. “I'm not going down without a fight.”  
  
Varia nodded and began calling her magic to her fingers, readying a fireball to throw at however many darkspawn were to come through the door. By her estimation, there were at least a dozen of them, but unlike before she couldn't be entirely sure if they were all coming together or if they were dispersed throughout the tower.  
  
What neither of them had been expecting, however, was that the darkspawn would come up from _behind_ them after scaling the outside wall of the tower. Alistair realized too late that was where they were, and by the time he turned around a tall one in full armor had hit him with a large hammer and sent him flying once more across the room and into a stack of crates.  
  
“Alistair!” Varia shouted his name as she began rushing to him, then she suddenly felt a searing pain in her right shoulder. Looking at the source, she found an arrow piercing her, sicking out in the front and back. Her vision immediately began to swim, and her body suddenly felt very heavy. She tried to continue toward her fallen comrade, but she found it was becoming harder and harder to breathe and she fell to the floor when the poison coursing through her veins caused her legs gave out under her.  
  
“Alistair...” she whispered his name, weakly reaching out for him and wondering if he was still alive or if they would both die there.  
  
The last thing she heard before blacking out was a great roar like the one from the dragon in the nightmare she'd had during her Joining, and she swore she could see its outline swooping down upon her from the sky above as her eyes fell closed.


	15. Past Memories, Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair thinks about his past while waiting for Varia to recover from her injuries, and once she is awake the two of them set out to face the Blight against nearly impossible odds... but they're not alone.

 

 

**Chapter Fifteen: Past Memories, Future Plans**  
  
Alistair was _beyond_ furious. How dare Eamon decide to send him off to the Chantry? He knew full well why the old man was doing it, though. That Orlesian harpy Eamon called his wife had made no real attempt to hide how much she hated him, after all. She'd even had the gall to leave him locked in a cage in the dungeons for an entire day, with no food or water, when he accidentally got himself stuck in there while playing hide-and-seek with the two sons of one of the household servants. And now that they had a brat of their own, she'd been desperately searching for just the right way to get rid of him, once and for all.  
  
Swearing under his breath, he ran into the stables and kicked the first object he came across as hard as he could. The wooden bucket tipped over, spilling water upon the ground, but Alistair still wasn't satisfied. He picked up one of the brushes he used to groom the horses and threw it as hard as he could across the stable. It hit the far wall with a satisfying _thunk_ , and he heard a small gasp follow.  
  
“Who's there?” he demanded, knowing someone must be hiding in one of the stalls. “Show yourself, _now_!”  
  
He heard some dry hay rustling in the farthest stall, and a head sporting reddish-gold hair in pigtails slowly appeared around the edge of the doorway, followed by two huge, frightened grey eyes. He continued to glare at the intruder, and it wasn't until she stepped out fully and he noticed the points at the tips of her small ears that he realized who she was. He'd heard Isolde's handmaidens speaking of her and her mother in hushed tones, saying how Eamon had decided to take them in after discovering them on the road back from Denerim. They had been attacked by bandits, the girl's father murdered and her mother violated. And here he was, yelling and treating her like she was some sort of criminal for hiding away from his angry outburst.  
  
“It's okay,” he said in a much quieter tone, slowly approaching her. “I'm sorry if I frightened you. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise.”  
  
The little elven girl took a step back from him when he held out one of his hands to her, and Alistair stopped walking toward her. The poor thing was likely traumatized, and while he had his own problems to deal with hers were _much_ worse, by comparison. Thinking maybe his larger size was intimidating her, he crouched down a bit to bring himself more to her height. She continued looking from his hand to his face, as though she was trying to decide if she should really trust him or not, and eventually she reached out and placed her tiny hand in his.  
  
“I'm Alistair,” he introduced himself, smiling at her. “What's your name?”  
  
The girl didn't answer. Instead, she hid her face behind the raggedy old stuffed bear she was holding. Alistair didn't mind, though. He would do all the talking, if need be.  
  
“Hello, Mister Bear,” he instead introduced himself to the toy made from mismatched scraps of fabric. “How are you today?”  
  
“Well, Alistair, I'm sad,” Alistair replied to his own question, speaking in a high-pitched voice meant to be the bear's. “My friend's family was hurt the other day, and I really wish I could do something to cheer her up.”  
  
“Well, then, Mister Bear... What should we do? Does your friend like horses?”  
  
He turned his hazel eyes back to the little girl's face, and she nodded slowly.  
  
“Do you think she would like to go for a ride on one of them?”  
  
Her pigtails bounced as she nodded more excitedly.  
  
“Okay, then,” Alistair told her and slowly reached out to her. “I'm going to sit you over there on that hay while I get a saddle on one of them, all right?”  
  
He waited for her nod before gently grasping her waist and hoisting her up onto the pile of hay across from the empty stall she had been hiding in, then set to work saddling Eamon's prized mare. She was the gentlest of his horses – the arl's personal favorite – and the one least likely to scare the girl by going too fast or suddenly bucking. Once he had her properly saddled, he helped the girl onto the horse and climbed up to sit behind her, holding her close to his chest as they rode out of the stables and through the field behind the castle.  
  
He took her toward his favorite spot on the edge of the forest, where he liked to run off to when he was especially mad at Eamon or his wife, but as they neared the woods she suddenly grasped the front of his shirt and hid her face against his chest, whimpering pitifully. He wondered if maybe the bandits who had hurt her parents had also done something to her, as well, and he couldn't help the anger that boiled up inside him at the thought. She was just a child, probably no more than six or seven years old. How anyone could hurt someone so young – especially a girl – he really didn't understand.  
  
The two of them eventually stopped riding and spent some time playing in the field, and Alistair felt extremely satisfied that he could make that sad little girl smile and laugh while blowing off steam and making himself feel better, as well. They played tag, blew the wispy white seeds off of dandelions, and he even let her ride around on his shoulders while she held out her arms and pretended she could fly. By the time they finally made their way back toward the castle the sun was beginning to set, and she ended up falling asleep against his chest. He hated to wake her, knowing the dream world might very well be preferable to what was going on in her waking life, but he had to get the horse unsaddled and back in her proper stall before the stable master found out he'd taken it.  
  
They were too late for that, though. The stable master caught them as Alistair was removing the saddle from the mare, and the first thing the drunken brute did was grab that little girl and accuse _her_ of being the one who 'stole' the arl's prized horse.  
  
“Stop it!” Alistair demanded, marching right up to the man – who was easily four times his size – and punching him in the arm as hard as he could. “She didn't steal anything!”  
  
“Right,” the man drawled. “Like I'm supposed to believe a bloody knife-ears ain't a thief.”  
  
“She's just a child!” Alistair argued, desperately trying to wrench the man's thick fingers from her tiny arm. She was whimpering in pain and Alistair knew that she would end up bruised at the very least if she didn't get a broken arm from him.  
  
“ _I_ did it!” he finally screamed at the top of his lungs. “ _I'm_ the one who took the horse, all right? Punish me, and _let her go_!”  
  
The stable master turned to him with a positively evil grin on his face. “You sure you want the full brunt of this punishment, boy? Stealing the arl's favorite horse is quite a crime.”  
  
“I'll take it,” Alistair told him defiantly. “Just leave her be.”  
  
He shoved the girl away, sending her sprawling onto the floor of the stable, and grasped Alistair's arm as hard as he could. Alistair let out a pained grunt as the man twisted it behind his back at an unnatural angle, and he struggled to stay on his feet when the man began to drag him away for what he was sure would be the worst whipping he'd gotten yet from him.  
  
“Alistair!”  
  
He turned his head, his eyes going wide at the sound of the tiny voice calling his name – the first word he'd heard her speak all afternoon. She was sitting on the ground, hay in her hair, and she was reaching out to him with one of her hands as tears spilled over from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.  
  
“Alistair!” she cried again, getting up and running over to him. She threw her arms around him and held onto him as tight as she could, and Alistair reached up with his free hand to gently run his fingers over her soft golden hair.  
  
“It's okay,” he assured her. “Go.”  
  
She looked up at him and shook her head, then buried her face against him once more.  
  
“You best listen to him, knife-ears,” the stable master told her. “'cause if you're still here when I get done with him, I'm gonna whip you next.”  
  
“Go,” Alistair repeated. “Please.”  
  
The little girl nodded and turned away from him, her head hung low. Then she ran.

* * *

  
  
Alistair sighed deeply and opened his eyes, then tossed another pebble out into the marsh before looking back over his shoulder at the run-down hut. Varia was still lying within its walls, very much unconscious.  
  
He'd had an inkling from the first time he saw her back at the ruins that he knew her eyes from somewhere, and the more times he'd looked into them the stronger that feeling had grown... but it wasn't until the final moment before he lost consciousness atop the Tower of Ishal – when he heard her cry out his name – that he was sure of where he'd seen those eyes before. Her voice was different, of course, due to the maturity brought on by the past ten years, but there was the _exact_ same note of fear which had been present when she'd been a child.  
  
He'd completely forgotten that the little elven girl he'd spent that afternoon with had been a mage. She was taken away to the Circle by the First Enchanter while he was receiving his punishment for using Eamon's horse, and so he'd never even gotten a chance to say goodbye to her or even learn her name. He _had_ found her stuffed bear, though, which she dropped in her haste to get away from the stables. He'd ended up giving it to her mother in an attempt to calm the woman – who had been crying uncontrollably since her daughter had been taken from her within a matter of days following the death of her husband. It didn't seem to help much, though.  
  
A couple of weeks later, he was in Denerim having the tenants of the Chant of Light shoved down his throat. He'd thought about that little girl a lot for the first few months of his lessons. She was a mage, living at the Circle tower, and he couldn't help but wonder what life was like there for her. Was she being treated fairly? Did the other children make fun of her and call her cruel names because she was an elf? Did the templars abuse her? Soon, though, he started thinking less and less about her as he began feeling more and more hopelessly trapped. By the time he entered his templar training, he'd completely forgotten about her.  
  
Now, knowing that Varia and the little girl from that day were one and the same, a whole new set of questions were suddenly cropping up in his mind. Had they crossed paths when he was at Kinloch Hold for her friend's Harrowing? And, Maker... He'd almost been the one who the Knight-Commander chose to take to the tower with him. What would have happened if he'd been taken instead of Cullen? Would she have fallen in love with _him_ , instead?  
  
Alistair felt himself blushing and attempted to shake the thought from his head. He knew he shouldn't be seeing her like that. She was his sister-in-arms, his fellow Grey Warden – the only one left besides him - and he would just have to hold back whatever these feelings were he was starting to have toward her. He couldn't help but wonder if she remembered him even just a little, though. Maybe he'd have to ask her when she woke up... _if_ she ever woke up.

* * *

  
  
Varia was in pain. Her entire body ached all over, but nowhere was the pain quite as bad as her right shoulder. She felt like someone had stabbed her and was slowly twisting the blade while continuously pulling it out and pushing it back into the wound. It took her a moment to remember having been shot by an arrow from one of the darkspawn on top of the tower, and as soon as the thought came to mind she realized that the recurring pressure she was feeling was actually due to someone cleaning and dressing the wound.  
  
She slowly opened her eyes and found the young woman from the Wilds sitting at her bedside and leaning over her. She also found a bowl of water with a wet, blood-stained rag sitting within it resting upon her bare stomach alongside what looked to be a roll of bandages and a second bowl containing some sort of crushed-up herbs.  
  
“I see you have finally decided to rejoin the world of the living,” Morrigan remarked, her voice not holding the slightest bit of relief or happiness at seeing her charge awaken.  
  
“How did I get here?” Varia asked, turning her head to take in her surroundings. It appeared that she was in some sort of simple dwelling, perhaps the hut where Morrigan and her mother lived in the Wilds.  
  
“You do not remember? Of course, you wouldn't,” Morrigan remarked, letting out an annoyed sigh as she gathered up the materials she had been using to dress Varia's shoulder. Varia slowly sat up on the bed where she had been lying, watching her put the two bowls and the bandages on an old table near the hearth before going to a pot hanging above the fire and carefully stirring its contents.  
  
“Well?” Varia prompted, still expecting an answer.  
  
“Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call,” Morrigan replied without turning around. “What is important, I suppose, is that you both still live.”  
  
“And what of the king and his men? And the rest of the Wardens?” Varia demanded, remembering how she and Alistair had both witnessed Loghain's men marching away from the battlefield.  
  
“Massacred. All of them,” Morrigan answered rather nonchalantly. “The darkspawn won your battle. Your friend... He is not taking it well.”  
  
“Of course he's not! Those were his friends!”  
  
Varia slid to the edge of the small bed and slowly stood, groaning a bit at the stiffness in her muscles. She needed to see Alistair. Morrigan had said he survived the battle, as well, and with the news of what had happened to the others she was sure he would be in need of a friend to lean on – though hopefully not in the literal sense, as she felt like her legs might give out under her at any moment.  
  
Morrigan let out an annoyed groan and walked over to her, sliding an arm around her waist to help support her as she stood. “The arrow which pierced your shoulder was coated with a type of poison neither my mother nor I were entirely familiar with. You will likely remain weak for the next few days, and I should inform you that you _will_ have scars as a result of your injury. Then again, the fact you are alive is a marvel. _I_ had been certain you would die.”  
  
“I take it I shouldn't bother thanking you, then?” Varia wondered.  
  
“Not for saving your life, no. 'Twas my mother whose skills pulled you through. However, you _can_ thank me for this.”  
  
She walked away from Varia - not even bothering to make sure she was steady on her feet - and went to retrieve something from a second, smaller room created by a wall reaching halfway across the hut. Varia immediately recognized her pack of belongings from the King's Camp, and moved as quickly as she could to snatch it out of her hands.  
  
“Alistair was right!” she said as she dug through the contents, checking to be sure her grimoire was still safely tucked within, if nothing else. “You really are a sneaky witch-thief!”  
  
“Well... you are _quite_ welcome,” Morrigan remarked snidely, crossing her arms over her chest. “Perhaps you would rather I left your things there in the middle of camp to be torn through by the darkspawn? And to think, I even washed those ugly robes of yours which make you look like a giant chicken.”  
  
Varia paused in the frantic search through her belongings and looked up at her. “You actually got those stains out of my robes?”  
  
“For the most part, yes.”  
  
“They don't make me look like a chicken,” Varia grumbled, pulling the robes out and looking them over. Morrigan had, indeed, gotten out the better part of the darkspawn ichor which had been staining the fabric.  
  
“Well, either you are blind or you have the most _questionable_ taste in fashion out of everyone I have ever met.”  
  
“Really?” Varia asked with a smirk, tossing her pack onto the bed and sitting next to it to dress in her freshly-washed robes. “And just how many people do you meet, living out here in the middle of nowhere, hm?”  
  
Morrigan opened her mouth to make some sort of retort, then suddenly shut it again and turned back to the pot over the fire with a huff.  
  
“The dim-witted one is outside, waiting for news of your condition,” she informed Varia in a haughty tone. “Mother asked to see you when you awoke, as well.”  
  
“Why does she want to see me?”  Varia wondered, panicking when she couldn't find the ribbon she wore in her hair. She eventually saw it half-tucked under the pillow on the bed and she swept it up and used it to tie her hair into her usual style.  
  
“I do not know,” Morrigan snapped in reply to her question. “She rarely tells me her plans. If you want an answer so badly, perhaps you should get out there and ask her yourself.”  
  
Varia rolled her eyes and closed up her pack, then hoisted it onto her uninjured shoulder and made her way toward the door.  
  
“Morrigan,” she called with a glance over her shoulder, then waited for the woman to turn toward her and flashed her a smile when she finally looked. “Thank you.”  
  
Morrigan blinked, obviously caught off-guard by the sentiment, and Varia's smile grew at the confused expression on her face. She then opened the door and left the hut, squinting when the early-morning sun hit her eyes. She brought up a hand to block the brightness and soon found herself pulled into a crushing hug.  She winced at the increased pain in her shoulder, and Alistair instantly let her go.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he apologized, gingerly touching her where she'd been hit. “I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just... Maker, it's good to see you.”  
  
She looked up at him to find tears in his hazel eyes, and the reality of what Morrigan had told her of the battle's outcome finally hit her. He'd lost so much more than she did in that battle, too. Duncan – who he had obviously been close to – and the rest of the Wardens were gone. All those soldiers were gone. Even the king... the _king of Ferelden_ was dead! She had just met the man, and he'd been so warm and kind to her, but now his cold body was lying somewhere upon that battlefield, very likely being picked over by the darkspawn. She felt herself starting to cry, as well, and she wrapped her arms around Alistair, ignoring the pain as she tightly held onto him. He was _alive_. Alistair was still there. And, somehow, that gave her more comfort than anything else anyone could have possibly said to her in that moment.  
  
“I was so scared you weren't going to pull through,” he said quietly to her, and she shivered when his lips brushed against the tip of her ear.  
  
“From the way Morrigan was talking, I wouldn't have without her mother's help.”  
  
“It seems we both owe our lives to Morrigan's mother.”  
  
“Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad.”  
  
Varia turned her head, reaching up with one hand to wipe away her tears, and saw Morrigan's mother standing nearby. Apparently, she had been watching the entire exchange between them. Varia released her hold on Alistair, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed for the display she'd just put on.  
  
“I mean no disrespect,” Alistair explained, keeping a hand against Varia's back as a way to remind himself that she was, in fact, very much alive and still there with him. “It's just that... Well, you never told us your name.”  
  
“Names are pretty, but mostly useless,” the crone said with a smile. “The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do.”  
  
“Flemeth?” Varia repeated under her breath, her eyes going wide. A glance at Alistair showed he was having much the same reaction to learning the old woman's name.  
  
“ _The_ Flemeth?” he asked, his posture tensing. “From the legends? Daveth was right! You're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?”  
  
“So I know a bit of magic, so what?” Flemeth asked, her eyes narrowing at him. “It has served you both well enough, has it not?”  
  
“But I don't understand,” Alistair continued, shaking his head. “If you could save us, then why not the others? Why not Cailan? Or Duncan! He is... was our leader.”  
  
“Hasn't anyone ever told you that you should never look a gift horse in the mouth, boy? You should be grateful that _your_ lives were spared.” She put a hand to her head briefly and sighed, then looked back to Alistair once more. “I am truly sorry for your loss, dear boy, but your grief must come later. _Duty_ must come now. From what I remember, it has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands in times of a Blight... and trust me, the Horde will not wait until you have finished shedding tears for your lost comrades.”  
  
“But we were winning against the darkspawn!” Alistair protested. “The army had nearly defeated them! Why did Loghain pull out of the battle like he did? I just... I don't understand.”  
  
Varia reached up and gently grasped his arm, rubbing it in a soothing manner like Irving used to do for her whenever she was upset about something, and he looked at her and took her hand in his as Flemeth answered the question which had been on both of their minds since they witnessed the general's retreat.  
  
“Now _that_ is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature, I'm afraid. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the _true_ threat.”  
  
“The archdemon,” Alistair said, nodding, and Varia shuddered. She had seen the archdemon before she lost consciousness on top of the Tower of Ishal – or, at least, she assumed it had been the archdemon. It was most certainly a _very_ large dragon, that much she was sure of.  
  
“But who would believe you? Unless you think you can convince this Loghain of his mistake?” Flemeth asked them. Varia knew that was unlikely, though. Loghain hadn't seemed all that happy with the presence of the Wardens at Ostagar, after all, and he'd been fully aware that they were out on that battlefield with the King's Army. He probably expected them to all be dead and the very idea that he might listen to her and Alistair pleading with him to take the threat of the Blight seriously was almost enough to make her laugh out loud.  
  
“He just betrayed his own king!” Alistair stated angrily. “The son of his closest friend! If Arl Eamon knew what he did at Ostagar, he would be the first to call for his execution!”  
  
“Maybe we should go to him, then,” Varia suggested. “He'd likely be more willing to listen to us than Loghain would.”  
  
“I suppose we could do that,” Alistair agreed. “He was Cailan's uncle, after all. And he wasn't at Ostagar, so he still has all his men. I know him. He... He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help, but... I doubt it would be enough.”  
  
“Good idea,” Flemeth encouraged them, “but do not forget that you have more at your disposal than old friends.”  
  
“The treaties!” Varia suddenly remembered. “Duncan said they were iron-clad in the time of a Blight. We could use those to help us gain more allies.”  
  
“So can we do this, then?” Alistair asked her. “Can we go to Redcliffe and these other places and... build an army?”  
  
“Do you have any better ideas?” Varia replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Besides, isn't that what Grey Wardens do?”  
  
“So you are set, then?” Flemeth inquired.  
  
“I think we are,” Varia answered for both of them, giving Alistair a reassuring smile, which he returned.  
  
“Good. Now... Before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you to help along your journey.”  
  
At that moment the front door of the hut opened and Morrigan walked over to the three of them, glaring at the two Wardens. She wiped her hands on a dirty cloth as she looked them over, then turned to address her mother.  
  
“The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have two guests for our meal, or none?”  
  
She cast a meaningful glance at the guests in question, one which said she would rather the latter option be true. Varia was all too glad to comply with her desires, but Flemeth said she had something else to give them before she and Alistair set off, and she was hopeful that it would be some sort of supplies or perhaps a small bag of gold they could use to buy supplies in the nearest town – wherever that might be.  
  
“The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl,” Flemeth addressed her daughter. “And you will be leaving with them.”  
  
“Such a shame-- What?!”  
  
“ _What_?!” Varia and Alistair blurted out almost as the same time as Morrigan. Of all the things the old woman could have said, none of them had been expecting _that_.  
  
“You heard me,” Flemeth said, as much to the two Wardens as to her daughter. “The last time I looked, you all had ears!”  
  
She began laughing and Varia and Alistair exchanged an incredulous look. _This_ was the helpful thing she was offering them to take along on their quest to raise an army in order to take on the darkspawn horde and the archdemon?  
  
“Have I no say in this?” Morrigan asked her mother, looking very upset at the idea of being sent away with them.  
  
“You know,” Alistair piped up, “if Morrigan doesn't want to come with us, she is certainly _more_ than welcome to stay here.”  
  
“You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens,” Flemeth added, turning back to them, “consider this repayment for your lives.”  
  
It seemed an odd sort of repayment to Varia, that she would insist they take her daughter away in exchange for the way she had saved their lives. While she was inclined to agree with Alistair, though, she couldn't deny the woman her request. After all, it was only a matter of time before the darkspawn would swarm into the Wilds from the ruins of Ostagar, and if Morrigan remained there she might very well end up dead. Perhaps sending her away with them was Flemeth's way of protecting her from such a fate.  
  
“Not to... look a gift horse in the mouth, as you said earlier,” Alistair said to Flemeth, though his eyes were still narrowed at Morrigan, “but isn't this just going to _add_ to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate.”  
  
“As am I, technically,” Varia pointed out to him. “My note of release was most likely destroyed back at the ruins.”  
  
“You're a Grey Warden now, though. The Chantry no longer has authority over you,” Alistair reminded her. “ _Her_ , on the other hand...”  
  
“If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on top of that tower.”  
  
Alistair's gaze snapped to Flemeth and he swallowed nervously. Her golden eyes were boring into his, and though she was old he could almost _feel_ the strength of the magic that was within her. He cast a glance over to Varia and she gave him a small nod, so he finally sighed in resignation.  
  
“Fine. Point taken. She can come with us.” He turned to Morrigan again. “But she had better be useful.”  
  
“I shall certainly be more useful than _you_ ,” Morrigan shot back at him.  
  
Alistair opened his mouth to reply, and Varia jabbed her elbow into the spot where he had been injured during the battle with the ogre. He grunted a bit at the sudden shot of pain in his side, but kept his mouth shut even as Morrigan continued to look at him with a single eyebrow raised, as if she was daring him to continue the argument.  
  
“Now, then,” Flemeth said, breaking into the conversation once more, “go get your things, girl, so that you and the Wardens can be on your way.”  
  
“But... this isn't the way I wanted this to happen,” Morrigan protested. “I am not even ready--”  
  
“You must _be_ ready,” Flemeth cut her off, and the two of them shared a meaningful look with one another. “This is what you have been waiting for, all your life.”  
  
“Very well,” Morrigan acquiesced to her mother's wishes, then she turned to the two people who would be her new traveling companions. “Just give me a moment to collect my things, and we shall be on our way.”  
  
Varia watched Morrigan go back into the hut to get whatever she would need to bring along with her, and Alistair pulled her aside so they could speak quietly out of Flemeth's earshot.  
  
“Are we _really_ taking her with us?”  
  
“I don't see that we have any other choice,” Varia told him, looking to the old woman who was watching their every move with intense interest.  
  
“We could leave. Now. While she's still getting her things,” Alistair suggested.  
  
“Why are you so against taking her with us?”  
  
“Because she's a bitch and she creeps me out. Oh, and did I mention... _she's a bitch_?”  
  
Varia laughed a little. “I admit, she _does_ have a way about her.”  
  
“See? You don't like her, either. So why are we taking her along with us?”  
  
“I think I understand why her mother wants us to take her, that's why,” Varia answered.  
  
“You _do_? Maybe you can clue me in, then, because I really have _no idea_ why she's so adamant about sending her with us,” Alistair requested  
  
“She's a mother protecting her child, Alistair,” Varia explained to him. “She wants Morrigan away from this place so when the darkspawn inevitably sweep through here and take out everything in their path she won't end up just another causality of the Blight.”  
  
“And she thinks sending her with _us_ will help prevent her from being killed by the darkspawn? She _does_ know what Grey Wardens do, right? That we fight the darkspawn _all the time_?”  
  
“I assume she's aware of that. But we're better equipped at dealing with them than anyone else. We can sense them, after all. I don't know... But if I was a mother and the choices were to send my child with some Grey Wardens who could better protect them from the darkspawn or keep them at home where we had no defense against them – I would probably make the same decision.”  
  
“I guess I see what you mean... Fine, she can come with us,” Alistair finally gave in. “But I still don't trust her.”  
  
Morrigan walked over to them, letting out an annoyed sigh as she joined the two of them at the edge of the small plot of land in the swamp where her mother's hut was built. She adjusted the straps of the pack on her back, making a face at how uncomfortable they felt digging into her shoulders, and then she placed her hands on her hips and looked from Varia to Alistair and back before addressing them.  
  
“I am at your disposal, Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination.'Tis not far, and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide.”  
  
“I like that second option, personally,” Alistair muttered under his breath.  
  
“I don't mind you speaking your mind, Morrigan,” Varia told her. “Just so long as you keep your insults to a minimum.”  
  
Alistair groaned. “Are you _sure_ you want to take her with us just because her mother says so?”  
  
“We need all the help we can get, Alistair,” she told him, and Alistair could tell from the look in her eyes that while she was acting like she was fine with the arrangement she was also having some serious doubts about it.  
  
“I guess you're right,” he agreed. “The Grey Wardens have always taken allies wherever they could find them.”  
  
“I am _so pleased_ to have your approval,” Morrigan told him with a mock bow.  
  
Alistair bit his tongue to avoid starting an argument with the witch, and instead turned his attention once more to Varia. “Shall we be on our way, then?”  
  
“Yes, let's,” Varia said, starting on the path leading away from the hut. “It would be best if we reached this village Morrigan spoke of before nightfall.”  
  
Alistair followed closely behind Varia, but Morrigan hesitated a moment. She looked back to her mother, who nodded at her and gave her a knowing smile, then took a deep breath and set off behind the Wardens.


	16. Lothering Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varia and Alistair make their way to the town of Lothering with Morrigan's help, picking up another companion along the way. Once they reach the settlement, an encounter with a group of bandits leads to them discovering some rather disturbing news.

 

 

 

****

**Chapter Sixteen: Lothering Bound**

Varia winced as she lowered herself onto a rock at the side of the road, each and every muscle in her body feeling like it was on fire. She set her pack in her lap and began digging through its contents, looking for the strongest health potion she had on hand. While she knew it wouldn't be a permanent solution, it would likely provide her some comfort for the rest of their journey to the town Morrigan was leading them to – Lothering, she said it was called.

“Here.”

Varia looked up from her pack and found Morrigan standing before her, holding out a small piece of what appeared to be the bark from some sort of tree.

“Well? Take it. You _are_ in pain, yes?” Morrigan asked, holding it out closer to Varia.

“Maybe she's worried you're trying to poison her,” Alistair remarked, snatching the bark away from the witch.

“While I know of many poisons which grow in the Wilds, I assure you that this is not one of them.”

“And we're to simply take you at your word?” Alistair asked her with a short laugh. “What, exactly, have you done to prove your trustworthiness to us?”

“Believe me,” Morrigan told him with a wicked grin, “if I wanted the two of you dead, you would _already_ be dead.”

“I find it very hard to believe you're giving this to her purely out of the goodness of your heart,” Alistair insisted. “What's the _real_ reason?”

“And I find it rather offensive that the first words out of your mouth since we left are an accusation of attempted murder,” Morrigan retorted. “If you _must_ know, however, one of the reasons Mother sent me along with you was to continue tending to your injuries. Neither of you are exactly in top form, after all.”

“How badly were you hurt?” Varia asked Alistair, taking the opportunity to step into the conversation before it started coming to physical blows between them.

“I'm fine,” Alistair insisted. “Morrigan's exaggerating.”

“And _you_ are lying to her,” she asserted, then turned to Varia. “'Twas a close call for both of you. While the poison in your veins was more dire than the sum of his injuries, I daresay the better part of his body is still covered in bruises.”

“Is that true, Alistair?”

Varia continued to watch him until he finally looked her way, but he quickly turned his gaze from hers and sighed, flinching almost imperceptibly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stop worrying about me,” he muttered, having seen the concern in her eyes. “I've taken worse beatings.”

“Maybe we should have waited a bit longer before setting out,” Varia mused, sighing before returning to the search through her belongings.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Morrigan sneered. “You are not aware, but you were unconscious for two days.”

“I was?” Varia asked, blinking at her in shock. While she had informed her earlier how sick she was from the darkspawn poison, Morrigan hadn't made any indication that she had been out of sorts for any real length of time – nor had Alistair or Flemeth.

“Don't look at me,” Alistair said, throwing up his hands when she turned to him for verification. “I only woke up in the night before you. I had merely assumed it was still the day of the battle.”

“Well, your _assumption_ 'twas wrong,” Morrigan told him before returning her attention to her fellow mage. “So, as you might imagine, the darkspawn horde has been gaining both strength and territory in that time. It will only be a matter of another day or two before Lothering is completely overtaken, I have no doubt.”

“Which is why we can't afford to rest any longer than absolutely necessary, I get it,” Varia reluctantly agreed, finally locating the single Potion of Greater Healing she'd packed with her belongings when she left the tower. She removed the stopper and drank a couple of swallows from the vial, then held it out toward Alistair.

“Here,” she offered. “You could probably use the rest of this. It'll help speed up the healing of your injuries.”

Alistair took the potion from her with a nod and drank down the last of it, then passed the empty vessel back to her. She placed the stopper back in place before setting it in her bag once more, then stood and rolled her injured shoulder to test it. The pain was bearable, and her muscles no longer felt quite as sore as they had. It would do.

“So I take it you are _not_ going to be using that remedy I _so kindly_ provided for you?” Morrigan asked, her voice full of indignation.

“I appreciate the offer, Morrigan,” Varia told her, “but poison or not, I still don't know the full properties of it. Alistair and I need to be alert at all times, in case we run into any darkspawn which have strayed from the bulk of the horde.”

“Which we _won't_ be if that poison plant of yours makes us drowsy,” Alistair concluded.

“'Tis _not_ poison,” Morrigan insisted through clenched teeth, but the Wardens ignored her and instead continued walking along the well-worn road in the direction they had previously been traveling.

The three of them traveled in silence for a long time, and with each step she took Varia kept mulling over some of the things Morrigan had said about Alistair. He had been badly injured during their fights at the Tower of Ishal, but she hadn't picked up on it until it was pointed out to her because he'd been hiding his pain – rather effectively, too. Perhaps he was hiding more than just physical pain, though.

“Morrigan's right,” she said as they continued walking side-by-side, keeping her voice quiet enough that the woman behind them wouldn't be able to listen in on their conversation. “You've been pretty quiet since we set out of the Wilds.”

“I've just been... thinking, I guess,” he answered, his eyes glued to the ground.

“About what?”

“Everything that's been going on,” he told her. “I still can't believe... Of all the people I would have expected to desert the battle like that, Loghain was the _last_ one I would have picked.”

“I admit, I was rather shocked when it happened. But the more I think about it, the less surprising it seems,” she admitted to him.

“Really?” he asked, finally turning his head to look at her.

“You weren't there during that meeting between him and King Cailan. Things were... tense between them,” she informed him. “And earlier in the day, when I first ran into Loghain, he seemed rather displeased with the entire situation.”

“How so?” Alistair wondered.

“He certainly didn't have faith in Cailan's abilities to lead his people effectively.”

“Well, that's not really surprising,” Alistair told her with a bit of a chuckle. “The king was a good man, but he wasn't the brightest when it came to military strategy. He was all about the _glory_ of battle, which was why Loghain was left to deal with the tactical side of it.”

“I got that impression about him,” Varia stated, smiling fondly at the memory of how Cailan's face had lit up each time he spoke of riding into battle with the Grey Wardens at his side. Then she remembered Loghain's reaction to that enthusiasm during the discussion of the battle plans and winced.

“I also got the impression that Loghain _did not_ share his sentiments concerning the greatness of the Wardens,” she informed Alistair.

“That's no real surprise, either,” Alistair remarked, letting out a weary sigh. “Did you know that Cailan's father was the one who brought the Grey Wardens back to Ferelden? They'd been exiled from the nation for centuries prior to that.”

“I've read all about the history of the Wardens,” Varia told him, nodding.

“Well, what the history books _won't_ tell you is that Loghain was vehemently against the Wardens returning,” he informed her. “The majority of the ones who came to King Maric seeking his assistance with a certain matter of importance were Orlesian, after all – and I'm sure you're aware of what a sore spot Orlais is to the Teryn.”

“How do you know all of this?” she wondered.

“Duncan told me.” He flashed her a grin, which soon faded. He turned his attention back ahead of them, and the previous silence fell over them once again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Varia asked him after a while.

“About what?”

“Duncan.”

Alistair sighed heavily and shook his head. “You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long or as well as I did.”

“It seems he was like a father to you,” she said. “And that is a sentiment I understand completely. I just thought... Maybe it would make you feel better to talk to someone.”

He remained silent for several steps, then let out another sigh.

“I suppose I should be handling this better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that any one of us could die in battle.”

“That doesn't mean you're not allowed to grieve, Alistair,” she told him, reaching over and gently running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck in an attempt to offer him some sort of comfort. He turned to look at her and she gave him a sympathetic smile when their eyes met.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I--”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of a dog barking. The noise grew louder and the two of them turned to find a mabari hound bounding down the road toward them. Not far behind the hound, however, were about half a dozen darkspawn, led by one dressed in full armor and carrying a sword which had probably once belonged to of one of the soldiers in the King's Army.

“See? _This_ is why we didn't want your bloody poison plant,” Alistair called back to Morrigan a scant second before charging toward the group of darkspawn with the Mabari at his side.

Varia was surprised – but also relieved – when Morrigan held her tongue. Instead, the witch lent her skills in ice spells to their battle. While Alistair and the mabari fought against half of the darkspawn in a clanging of blades and teeth against armor and shields, Morrigan froze the others and Varia used Stonefist and lightning spells to finish them off. One managed to break out of its cocoon of ice, though, and Morrigan hit it with a curse which caused it to run in fear – straight toward them. Without a second thought, Varia stepped in front of the other woman and held up her hands before her, pouring out a steady stream of fire which sent the creature staggering backwards several steps before falling to the ground with a final groan.

Despite both her and Alistair being injured, the fight ended rather quickly. The mabari then trotted up to Varia and sat before her, looking up at her with an expression which could only be described as a smile. She tilted her head quizzically at the animal, wondering why it was looking at her in such a manner, and Alistair chuckled at the look of pure confusion on her face as he came back up the road in the hound's wake.

“I think he was out there looking for you,” he said, kneeling next to the animal and petting the top of his head.

“Why would he be looking for me?”

The hound's happy expression fell at her question and he bowed low to the ground and whined pitifully as he looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Wait...” Varia mused, bending down toward the mabari to get a better look at him. It was hard to tell, since it had been dark the last time she saw him and she wasn't very good at telling one dog from another, but she was almost positive she recognized him. “I think this is the mabari I helped back at the camp in Ostagar.”

“Looks like he's chosen you,” Alistair commented with a smile when the animal perked up after she remembered him. “Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”

Morrigan made a disgusted noise as she joined them. “Please tell me we are _not_ taking that mangy beast with us.”

“He's not mangy,” Alistair immediately leapt to the animal's defense, scratching the him behind his ears. “He's a good boy!”

“Who said I was talking about the dog?” Morrigan muttered under her breath. Varia sent a glare back over her shoulder at the other woman before returning her attention to the hound and patting him on top of his head.

“I suppose he did manage to fight his way through the darkspawn to find us,” she remarked. “Which means he must be very brave and strong.” The dog let out an appreciative bark at her compliments, his tail wagging, and she looked to Alistair. He nodded in encouragement, his expression like that of a child who had brought home a puppy with the hope that their mother might allow them to keep it as a pet.

“Very well,” she agreed, unable to keep herself from smiling. “You may come along with us, ser dog.”

Both Alistair and the mabari let out a triumphant bark of noise, causing Morrigan to roll her eyes and continue on her way down the path alone. Varia watched after her quietly for a moment, still scratching the dog behind his ears, then stood and walked briskly to catch up to her. The dog immediately followed in her wake, leaving poor Alistair all alone, crouching in the middle of the dirt pathway. He called after them as he pulled himself to his feet, and grumbled a bit when none of them bothered to slow down to wait for him to catch up.

“May I ask you something, Morrigan?” Varia wondered once she had finally caught up to the older woman.

“You may,” Morrigan stated with a single nod of her head. “I _may_ even choose to answer.”

“Could you tell me some more about this village you’re taking us to?” she asked, hoping that maybe making small talk with her would help cool her temper and avoid any further confrontations between her and Alistair.

“‘Tis a small place of little consequence,” Morrigan replied without looking at her. “No more than a stop along your Imperial Highway where travelers purchase goods from local farms and smiths. I would go more often were it not for the town’s chantry. It makes the village particularly intolerant and unpleasant for a stranger such as me.”

“A chantry?” Alistair piped up, having caught up with the women once more. “And they never, in all this time, thought that _maybe_ you were a witch?”

“Of course they have.” Morrigan looked at him briefly over her shoulder, smirking, then returned her attention to the road ahead. “They even called out their templars once. They found nothing.”

“So if this town is of little consequence and it’s especially dangerous for both you and I to go there, as mages,” Varia broke in before Alistair could harass their guide further, “then why bother to go there at all?”

“I imagine you will be needing supplies for this journey, yes?” Morrigan said, though the question was completely rhetorical. “There is not another town for _miles_ , so ‘tis the only place you will be able to procure whatever items you might need. I also mention it for its tavern. Travelers often gather there and share news from other places. Perhaps the two of you shall find some answers as to why a man the king trusted with his life left him to die on the battlefield.”

“And what if someone recognizes you for what you are?” Alistair spoke up once more, moving swiftly around them to block their way. Morrigan, thoroughly annoyed, looked up at him with narrowed amber eyes before stepping around him.

“While I am _touched_ by your concern, I assure you that I am quite capable of taking care of myself. If I were you, I would be more concerned with your waifish companion.”

“She’s a Warden now,” Alistair reminded her as he and Varia began following her once more. “She is no longer under the control of Chantry law.”

“I would not be so confident in that assumption, if I were you,” Morrigan stated. Alistair opened his mouth to ask her what she meant by the comment, but she began speaking once more before he could voice his concerns.

“I assure you, the town and the tavern in it are both small enough that our appearance might go unnoticed--”

“ _Might_?” Alistair interrupted.

“--not to mention that the residents will be rushing around, attempting to flee the darkspawn.”

“She has a point, Alistair,” Varia said, laying a hand upon his arm. “Everyone will be too busy running for their lives to worry about persecuting a couple of mages.”

“You honestly believe that?” he asked her in response, turning his worried gaze upon her. Varia sighed a bit and looked away from him. He had a point. Her own experience with the templars at Kinloch Hold had shown her that many of them would stop at nothing to see a mage suffer. She simply had to hope that Morrigan would be right, in this case.

“Just how are we going to get past the darkspawn, ourselves, though?” Varia asked, posing the question to both of them.

“I believe the question is how we are going to get your _friend_ here past them, is it not?” Morrigan corrected her, looking back at Alistair. Varia also turned to look at him, wondering if she was missing some particularly important point.

“That’s true,” Alistair admitted. “We can sense the darkspawn. Conversely, _they_ can sense _us_.”

“I don’t sense any now, though,” Varia told him. She had easily sensed the ones back at the tower during the battle, but now she couldn’t feel anything.

“I can.” Alistair nodded a bit and sighed. “It takes a while for the ability to sense them to get to the point where you can feel them from a great distance. Eventually, you’ll be able to feel them from far away.”

“What does that mean, then?”

“We _should_ be able to sneak past the smaller groups, but larger ones or particularly intelligent darkspawn will always detect us - even you.”

“Which is why Mother has given me something else for them to ‘smell’ instead as we pass by,” Morrigan explained. “‘Tis still important we head _out_ of the Wilds, however, not further in.”

“You’re saying the darkspawn are camped further in the forest?”

Alistair nodded, but Morrigan once more began speaking before he could answer Varia’s question.

“They come from underground, like an eruption. They broke through deep in the forest and that it where they will be most concentrated.”

“How do you know all of this about the darkspawn, anyway?” Alistair asked her, his tone full of suspicion.

“I am not some uneducated, backwoods mongrel,” Morrigan replied. “Unlike certain _other_ people.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Alistair demanded, and Varia had to place a hand upon his chest to keep him from cutting the woman down.

“I have studied history and your Grey Warden treaties, among other things.”

“Can you cook?”

Morrigan stopped walking and turned around at Alistair’s flippant question, crossing her arms across her chest as she narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth set in a frown.

“I... _can_ cook, yes.”

“Then you can substitute for Alistair,” Varia interjected, once more finding herself attempting to diffuse the tension between them before it broke out into a full-blown, mage versus templar brawl. She gave Alistair a look, silently begging him to behave, and he closed his eyes and sighed heavily before returning his attention to Morrigan.

“Right,” he agreed with a fair amount of forced joviality. “My cooking will kill us. That’s all I meant.”

“I also know at least fifteen different poisons that grow right here in this marsh,” Morrigan continued, still glaring at Alistair. “Not that I would suggest ‘tis at all related to cooking.”

“See?” Alistair exclaimed, pointing at her and looking to Varia. “She _is_ trying to poison us!”

Varia sighed and looked about, desperately trying to find something to change the topic of conversation before Morrigan burned his hair off. Thankfully, she saw a bridge not too far off in the distance and, beyond that, what could only be the town which Morrigan had been leading them toward.

“Look, we’re almost there!” she told them, pointing in the direction of the bridge. They continued to stare each other down for a moment longer before Morrigan finally turned away in a huff and began marching toward the bridge.

“I could have handled that, you know,” Alistair whispered to Varia as they followed her, his eyes still warily watching the witch’s every move.

“We don’t have time to be fighting, Alistair,” she reminded him, shaking her head. “The sun is already setting.”

“Why are you suddenly all... buddy-buddy with her now, anyway?” he asked in return, finally turning to look at her.

“I still don’t trust her,” Varia admitted with a slight shake of her head, her grey eyes fixed on Morrigan’s back. “But the First Enchanter once told me that the best way to keep an eye on your enemies is to keep them close at hand.”

“That doesn’t always work, though,” Alistair told her with a scoff. “Loghain was practically Cailan’s right hand and look what happened there.”

“True,” Varia conceded. “Cailan didn’t know Loghain would betray him, though. Anyhow, with Morrigan... I guess since she’s a mage, and I’m a mage... I don’t know. I suppose a part of me wants to be able to give her the benefit of the doubt. Then again, my own best friend turned out to be a blood mage and I had trusted _him_ , too.”

“Don’t worry,” Alistair assured her. “No matter what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks.”

She turned to him to find a strange look upon his face and, without even asking what was wrong, she knew that he was still in pain. Not the physical sort of pain, though. He’d wanted to be there in the battle with Duncan, fighting at the Warden-Commander’s side, and he’d been denied that opportunity. Duncan had perished in the battle, along with the rest of the Wardens aside from them, and Varia could only imagine the questions going through Alistair’s mind.

“Alistair?” she quietly called his name, not wanting to draw Morrigan’s attention toward them. She waited until his eyes finally met hers and opened her mouth to once again voice her concern for him, but was cut off by Morrigan calling to them from farther up the road.

“We have arrived,” the witch informed them, and both of the Wardens went to stand next to her on the small stone bridge in order to take in the view of the town just downhill from where they were.

It was a small village, with about a dozen simple houses scattered about. Varia could see the chantry reaching up above the rest of the buildings, and in the distance there appeared to be several plots of farmland. What stood out to her most, however, were the vast number of people camped around outside the village proper in makeshift shelters of run-down merchant carts and tents created from scraps of fabric sew together.

“Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to. Led by an elf, of all things.”

The three of them turned to find a man with tanned skin and coal-black hair walking toward them wearing a smirk on his face. In his wake followed four others, all of them wearing the same sort of well-worn leather armor as their leader. She briefly wondered why the man considered her to be the leader of the group, when Alistair was not two feet away.

“Highwaymen,” he quietly warned her as he stepped up right behind her. “Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose.”

“Err... They don’t look much like them others, you know. Uhh... Maybe we ought to just let these ones pass,” one of the bandit’s companion’s stated in a slow, deep voice.

“Nonsense!” the leader replied before turning back to them with his grin still in place. “Greetings, travelers!”

“They are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan stated as she came up on Varia’s other side and crossed her arms over her chest. “I say we teach them a lesson.”

“Now is that any way to greet someone?” the bandit leader asked, tsking her. “A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

“You should listen to your friend,” Varia told him, hoping to reason with the lot of them rather than get into a confrontation which might draw unwanted attention their way. “We’re not refugees.”

“What did I tell you? No wagons, and this one looks armed,” the slow bandit remarked, gesturing toward Alistair.

“The toll applies to everyone, Hanric,” the leader reminded him. “That’s why it’s a toll and not, say, a refugee tax.”

“Oh, right.” Hanric said, grinning widely as he nodded in understanding before turning back toward Varia and her companions. “Even if you’re not a refugee, you still gotta pay.”

Varia sighed and put a hand to her temple, shaking her head. It was becoming quite clear that they weren’t going to get into town peacefully.

“Forget it. I’m not going to pay you.”

“Well I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that,” the leader replied to her refusal to comply, brandishing one of his daggers. “We have rules, you know.”

“Right,” Hanric chimed in. “We get to ransack your corpse, then. Those are the rules.”

Varia watched as the other bandits began drawing their own weapons and advancing upon them, grinning and chuckling. She felt Morrigan beginning to channel her magic on one side of her while Alistair unsheathed his sword on the other side, but did not make a move to call forth any of her own spells. Instead, she simply took a step toward the bandits and smiled.

“Do you _really_ want to fight a mage?” she asked them sweetly, batting her eyelashes a bit as she continued smiling at them. The lot of them stopped dead in their tracks, most of them appearing confused by her demeanor. Hanric, however, had turned stark white and began quickly backing away from her.

“A mage? Ahh!” he exclaimed, crossing his daggers in front of him in some sort of attempt to ward off her magic. “I don’t want to be a toad!”

“Nobody’s turning you into a toad, you sniveling bastard!” the leader scolded him, causing the larger man to stop backing away - though he still held his daggers up in front of him.

“But,” he addressed Varia, “we’ll, ah... let the toll go. Just this once.”

That wasn’t good enough for her. They might be letting them go, but there were sure to be others who would pass through and she didn’t want them to end up being victimized by this bunch of brigands. Smiling even more, she continued to advance upon them, bringing her right hand up to show them the fiery sparks which were already beginning to dance upon her fingertips.

“I think it’s time to test some spells,” she told them. Hanric fled, yelling that he didn’t want to be turned into a toad, and the rest of the bandits followed, leaving their leader alone to face those he had tried to take advantage of.

“All right!” the leader cried, holding up his hands. “I surrender! We’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!”

“ _Get by_?” Varia repeated angrily, the sparks in her hand increasing. “You’re a criminal!”

“Yes, I’m a criminal!” he admitted, covering his head with his arms. “I admit it. I apologize!”

“I want you to hand over _everything_ you’ve stolen,” she ordered, holding out her other hand to him, palm-up. “ _Now_.”

“Yes!” he quickly agreed, fumbling to remove the coin purse from his belt. “Yes, of course. The coins we’ve collected are right here.”

He placed the purse in her hand and Varia eyed him warily for a moment longer before reigning her magic back in. She continued to keep an eye on him as she opened the pouch and looked inside to find a surprisingly large number of small coins nestled within.

“Just over a hundred silvers,” the bandit informed her. “The rest is in the chests we brought. I swear! Now, um... Can I please go?”

“Not yet,” she told him, drawing the pouch closed once more and handing tying it to her belt. “First, I would like you to answer a question for me.”

“Of course! Anything!”

“Have you heard any news of what happened at Ostagar?” she asked him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she head Alistair take a step closer to better hear what the bandit had to say.

“I... Well, all I know is that everyone is saying the Grey Wardens betrayed the king during the darkspawn fight. Got him and themselves all killed. Teryn Loghain pulled out just in time, though. First thing he’s doing as regent is putting a bounty on Grey Wardens.”

She and Alistair shared a worried look. Loghain was blaming the Wardens for Cailan’s death. After all, who would be able to argue his claims? As far as he knew, every Grey Warden in Ferelden - and, really, everyone who had taken part in the battle in any capacity aside from his own men - had died at Ostagar. And any Wardens who may have survived were to be hunted down. Building an army to fight against the darkspawn was definitely going to be a bit harder for them if everyone in the nation truly thought the Wardens were responsible for the king’s untimely demise.

“Very well,” she finally said, turning back to the bandit. “You may leave. But I don’t ever want you showing your face around here again. Understood?”

“Oh, bless you!” he said, finally lowering his arms from over his head and bowing before her. “The darkspawn can have this place!”

With that, he took off running the way they had come. Varia almost called after him to warn him that the darkspawn were actually camped further in the marsh, but she decided against it. After all, how many people would end up dying because they lacked the funds needed to find passage to somewhere out of the path of the oncoming horde because of him?

“Did you hear what he said?” Alistair asked her, and she nodded. “Loghain is blaming _us_ for Cailan’s death?”

“So it would seem. And since he’s also put a bounty out on any surviving Wardens, we should probably refrain from telling too many people that’s what we are,” she suggested, looking up to him for his agreement.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“I wasn’t aware you _could_ think,” Morrigan remarked, leaning against the low wall running along the side of the bridge. Varia quickly moved to stand between her and Alistair when he began making his way toward the witch, no doubt to offer his own biting remark about how she was evil and not to be trusted.

“Look, we’ve been traveling all day. We’re tired, hungry, and - at least in my case and Alistair’s - sore all over. I say we get some rest at the inn and then, in the morning, we can gather supplies before heading out of town. Agreed?”

She looked from Alistair to Morrigan and back again, waiting until they each silently nodded in agreement. Once she felt her fellow Grey Warden relax, she finally stepped back and observed them glaring at each other for a moment before heading toward the stairs leading off the side of the bridge into town.


	17. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The town of Lothering is not quite the peaceful hamlet the Wardens had hoped to find, and soon they learn of another of Loghain's plans set against them.

**Chapter Seventeen: Confrontations**  
  
“Ahh, look how they moan and wail and gnash their teeth. 'Tis sad to watch how helplessly they scurry about.”  
  
Morrigan's assessment of the situation wasn't far off. The town of Lothering might have once been a nice little hamlet, but whatever charm it possessed had been lost to the effects of the coming Blight. Dozens of people milled around outside the gates, begging a small group of templars for help. Entire families huddled together under shelters made from their own clothing strewn across rope lines, while stragglers milled about alone or in small groups wherever they could find a place. Where once there would have been the cheerful sound of children playing, there was the crying of a young boy who had been separated from his mother. It broke Varia's heart to see the devastation that had already been caused by the Blight, and she knew it was only going to get worse.  
  
“It's just a guess,” Alistair said, gently moving Varia aside as a Chasind man walked by screaming at the top of his lungs about how they were all doomed, “but I'm thinking everyone in Lothering is aware of the approaching darkspawn horde.”  
  
“I never could have imagined it getting this bad so fast,” she replied, still stunned by the direness of the situation. The mabari she'd adopted whined pitifully at her side, and she reached down to pat its head.  
  
“You, there!”  
  
The three of them turned to find a templar in full armor approaching from the direction of the chantry. Varia immediately looked to Morrigan, hoping the witch wouldn't cause a scene.  
  
“If you're looking for safe shelter, I'll warn you: there's none to be found here,” the templar informed them, waving an arm about to indicate the numerous refugees who had already taken up a place in the town. “Move on if you can. Lothering is lost.”  
  
“Why are these people camped out here?” Varia wondered, her eyes falling upon a young elven girl and her parents. “Surely you could at least offer them a place to sleep out of the cold?”  
  
“We've had refugees streaming in from the south for the past two days,” the templar explained, not sounding the least bit concerned about their well-being. “The chantry and tavern are full to bursting. There simply isn't enough food to go around, and we templars can barely keep order. You'd be better off elsewhere, friend.”  
  
“And where is your bann?” Alistair asked. “For that matter, where are the guards? Shouldn't they be dealing with the evacuation of the town right now?”  
  
“The bann marched north with Teryn Loghain, took his men with him, so Lothering's on its own. Most of the townsfolk look to Elder Miriam, but I suppose you could speak to Ser Bryant in the chantry. Up to you.”  
  
The templar gave a slight shrug before walking away from them, leaving Alistair looking after him with a small scowl upon his face.  
  
“What's wrong?” Varia asked him, her eyes once more going to the sole elven family among the refuges.  
  
“I always thought that the templars were supposed to _help_ people. Was it just me or did it seem like he couldn't care less what happened to anyone in this town?”  
  
He looked down at Varia and followed her gaze to the elves huddled near a dying campfire. One of them was a young girl, probably not much older than she had been when he first met her. He reached out and took one of her hands in his, then gently tugged her in their direction.  
  
“What?” Varia asked, blinking a few times and focusing her attention upon him once more as she came out of whatever memory she had been lost in. Alistair flashed an amused smile at her.  
  
“Rather than simply staring, why don't we go see if we can do something to help them?”  
  
Varia blushed and ignored the groan of protest behind her coming from Morrigan. With a nod of her head, she took the lead and Alistair followed her to the camp the elves had set up for themselves. The father was an older man, and he stood abruptly when he noted their approach. Upon seeing that another elf was coming toward them, however, he soon relaxed.  
  
“Greetings to you, my lady,” he addressed her with an overly polite bow, followed by a nod of acknowledgment toward Alistair. “If it isn't too much to ask, could you possibly spare some bread? My family hasn't eaten in days.”  
  
“What happened to you?” Varia asked, kneeling to the child's level and offering her a kind smile before looking up to the man once more.  
  
“We thought Lothering would be safe,” the girl's mother replied, shaking her head sadly, “that the teryn would bring his soldiers here. He did, but... then he left. Took the local guards with him.”  
  
“We were attacked by bandits,” the man continued. “They took everything: our food, our clothes, even my daughter's pet lamb.”  
  
“Nobody cares about a few elves like us,” the woman lamented, reaching out to stroke her daughter's hair. “Surely you understand?”  
  
“I do,” Varia told them, nodding. “I am truly sorry for your hardship, but you'll be glad to know I ran those bandits off.”  
  
“That's wonderful news!” the woman declared, looking to her husband. “Perhaps our things are still there.”  
  
“We should go check as soon as possible,” he suggested. “Otherwise someone else might get to it first and claim it as rightfully theirs.”  
  
“Wait.” Varia held up a hand to stop them from leaving immediately and pulled the pouch of coins she had received from the leader of the bandits off her belt. She removed several silver pieces and handed them to the man, who looked at them in wide-eyed disbelief.  
  
“I know it's not much, but hopefully it will help your family escape the coming Blight.”  
  
“I... don't know what to say,” the man told her, still staring at the coins after she deposited them into the palm of his hand. “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity.”  
  
“Just get your wife and daughter to safety,” Varia replied. “That will be thanks enough for me.”  
  
The man nodded and his family began making their way through the other refugees toward the bridge the bandits had been occupying. Varia felt Alistair place a hand against her back and looked up to find him smiling at her and nodding in approval of her actions. Morrigan, however, did not seem to be quite as happy with what she had just done.  
  
“You do realize you are giving away the only money we currently possess?” the witch questioned her actions, pointing to the coin purse in Varia's hand with a scowl.  
  
“It's not rightfully ours,” Varia pointed out as she secured the pouch to her belt once more. “It belongs to the people those bandits robbed.”  
  
“Well, in that case, shall I call out to every miscreant here and inform them we are giving out free gold?”  
  
“You know,” Alistair retorted, “maybe you should--”  
  
“Look around you, Morrigan,” Varia cut him off, sweeping her arm about to indicate the refugees surrounding them. “Notice how the majority of these people are keeping close quarters to one another? They're helping each other to survive, even though most of them are probably complete strangers to one another.”  
  
She took a step closer to the witch, a scowl of her own forming upon her features as she narrowed her grey eyes at the older woman and stared her down. At her side, the mabari growled low in its throat.  
  
“You probably didn't even notice that they've all been ignoring those elves, did you? None of the others even so much as looked in their direction. Those who walked by made a point to _not_ look at them. _None_ of these people would have helped them, because the better part of the human populace still believes we're nothing but a bunch of savages out to rob them blind and steal their children – especially in towns like this!”  
  
Varia felt Alistair's hand upon her back once more, and she shook her head in disgust at Morrigan. The hand moved to her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, as if silently warning her to not make any more of a scene than she probably already had with her outburst, and she walked away with a frustrated sigh.  She really had no idea where that had come from. Perhaps it was a result of all the years of teasing and belittling she endured at Kinloch Hold, or maybe the town was stirring some other lost memories from her childhood to the surface. Either way, she knew she was right. If they hadn't helped that family, those elves likely would have died in the Blight.  
  
“Varia!”  
  
She stopped in her tracks when she heard Alistair calling her name and looked back over her shoulder to find him and Morrigan still working their way through the crowd toward her. Had she really been so upset that she'd stormed off faster than she thought, or had he kept the other woman back to get in his own shot at her? Looking around, she realized it was more likely that the people there were giving her a wider berth than they did her companions, being that she was not just an elf but an _angry_ elf.  
  
“What now?” she asked her fellow Warden when they caught up with her. “You heard that templar. There's no lodging at the inn and the chantry is also full.”  
  
“Permission to speak?” Morrigan reluctantly asked, casting a glance at Alistair, who hesitated a beat before nodding in reply. Apparently, he _had_ said something to her before they caught up to Varia.  
  
“I think it still wise to go to the inn,” she remarked, gesturing in the direction where the building stood on the far side of a small stone footbridge. “They may not have any room, but 'tis still a good place to find out the latest news about what has been going on here. Perhaps you will even learn what your enemy has been up to these past days.”  
  
“We already know Loghain's got a bounty out on us,” Alistair reminded her of what the bandits had said, “and that he's putting the blame for his deeds on the Grey Wardens.”  
  
“''Twas merely a suggestion,” Morrigan said, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.  
  
“You may be right,” Varia agreed with the other woman, earning herself a look of disbelief from Alistair. “There could be other news those bandits weren't privy too, perhaps something that might have only just reached town.”  
  
“I... guess,” Alistair acquiesced with a resigned sigh. “But we'll also need to get supplies while we're here. Especially if we're to make camp somewhere for the night.”  
  
“Right. Morrigan, you know the town. Where would we find a merchant?”  
  
“I have a feeling I am going to regret this,” Morrigan stated through clenched teeth, “but there is one right over there... being harassed by that young woman.”  
  
Varia turned around to survey the scene Morrigan had been referring to, but it seemed that she had given her own skewed assessment of the situation. It wasn't the merchant who looked distraught, but the young woman with brown hair who was apparently arguing with him over something. The merchant actually looked smug, his arms crossed over his chest as he attempted to wave her off. The girl wouldn't be so easily dismissed, however, and grasped at his shit sleeve, her voice rising to the point where Varia could easily hear her even though she knew her companions would not be able to.  
  
“You profit from their misfortune! I should have the templars give away everything in your carts!”  
  
“You wouldn't dare!” the merchant growled, reaching out to grasp her by the red scarf she wore around her neck.  
  
Varia tugged on Alistair's arm and pointed out the altercation to him, then followed when he made his way over to investigate the situation more thoroughly for himself. By the time they reached the merchant, he had an arm raised as if to strike the young woman and was yelling loudly enough to draw the attention of a few other passersby.  
  
“You step too close to my goods and I'll--”  
  
“It's _so nice_ to see everyone working together in a time of crisis,” Alistair stated loudly enough to alert the merchant of his presence, coming up behind him and placing a hand upon his shoulder. “Warms the heart.”  
  
“You there!” the merchant turned on Alistair, and Varia reached back toward her staff in case things started to get ugly. “You look able! Would you care to make a bit of profit helping a beleaguered businessman?”  
  
“And _why_ would we help you?” Varia asked, her hand falling back to her side as she stepped up next to Alistair, placing herself between the merchant and the young woman he'd been arguing with.  
  
“Didn't I mention profit?” the merchant replied with a grin.  
  
“He's charging outlandish prices for the things people in this town desperately need!” the young woman explained, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Their blood is filling his pockets!”  
  
“'Tis only survival of the fittest,” Varia heard Morrigan mutter under her breath, though the witch decided to keep any additional remarks to herself.  
  
“You must understand, I have limited supplies,” the merchant attempted to justify his actions. “The _people_ decide what those supplies are worth to them.”  
  
“He bought most of his wares from these very same people only last week!” the young woman retorted. “Now they flee for their lives, and he wants to talk business?”  
  
Varia felt a familiar sensation coming from the young woman and took her in more thoroughly. She had dark, shoulder-length hair and brown eyes, and while others would have missed it there was no mistaking the magic she could feel pulsing just under the girl's skin. She had a feeling her companions might also notice it, as well, being they were a witch and a former templar candidate. If they could tell, it would only be a matter of time before she became so distraught that the templars at the nearby chantry would notice and take her into custody. Thinking quickly, Varia grasped the girl by her forearms and waited until she had the other woman's full attention before shaking her head slightly and nodding toward the chantry. Understanding her unspoken message, the other woman nodded and took a slow, deep breath to calm herself.  
  
“Simply charge the people of this town what you would have for your goods _before_ this mess, and I will stop bothering you,” the woman told the merchant, causing him to scoff and cross his arms over his chest once more.  
  
“It's the best offer you're going to get,” Alistair told him, hand still firmly upon his shoulder. “There isn't another town for miles, and by the time you get there they will likely already be evacuated.”  
  
“Fine!” the merchant spat, reaching up and smacking Alistair's hand away before approaching Varia and the young woman. Varia moved to stand in front of the other mage, knowing she would at least have some immunity from punishment should it come to blows and she ended up needing to use her magic to defend them.  
  
“I'll sell my goods at the old rate,” the merchant told them in a low, growling voice as he poked a threatening finger in Varia's face. “But not to any of you.”  
  
Varia continued to hold her breath until the merchant retreated and went back to his cart, ordering his men to unload and sell their goods at the usual prices. She wasn't at all surprised when she heard Morrigan make a sound of disapproval next to her.  
  
“Excellent work,” the witch drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now we've gotten him to agree to fair prices, but he has refused to sell his goods to us. Yes, 'tis a wonderful job you've done.”  
  
“Thank you,” the young woman told Varia, ignoring Morrigan's statement. “I really cannot thank you enough, for the sake of everyone in this town.”  
  
“Bethany!”  
  
They all turned to see a man about Alistair's age and size with ginger hair and piercing blue eyes rushing toward them as best he could with what appeared to be a rather large sack of goods slung over one shoulder. He dropped the sack upon reaching them and pulled the young mage to him, looking her over as if he feared she had been injured.  
  
“What were you thinking? I told you not to worry about him. We already have enough supplies to take home.”  
  
“I wasn't thinking about _us_ , Roland,” Bethany argued, reaching up and taking his hands in her own. “Some of these people have _children_... children who would not have been able to eat tonight if someone didn't do something about him.”  
  
“Always worrying more about others than yourself,” Roland mused with a loving smile. He then realized there were others in their presence and turned to address them.  
  
“Thank you all for your help,” he told them with a slight bow as he bent to retrieve the sack of goods he'd dropped. “I would offer to buy you all a drink, but the tavern is full to bursting what with the men the teryn left behind to check for any remaining Grey Wardens.”  
  
Varia gasped softly and stiffened when she heard that Loghain had actually left behind reinforcements to take them out. A look in Alistair's direction confirmed he was much in the same state, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword as he stood to his full height, his hazel eyes carefully examining each face that passed them by.  
  
“Just get yourselves home before she starts another fight with a chantry sister over how much a reasonable amount is for a tithe,” Morrigan remarked, and Varia sighed and smiled apologetically at the young couple.  
  
“It was no bother,” Varia assured him, choosing to ignore Morrigan for the time being. “I'm glad we could help.”  
  
The young couple bade them goodbye and headed in the opposite direction of the refugee camp, walking arm-in-arm, and Varia watched them disappear over a small stone bridge with a wistful sigh.  
  
“What are we going to do _now_?” Alistair wondered, keeping his voice down to prevent any passersby from overhearing. “I sincerely doubt those soldiers Loghain left behind mean to simply have a friendly chat with us.”  
  
“If I may be so bold,” Morrigan interjected before Varia had a chance to respond, “perhaps you should go after your enemy directly. Confront these men and let them know you are not a force to be trifled with. I would even go so far as to suggest that you should first find this man, Loghain, and kill him. Surely, dealing with the Blight 'twould be much easier with your opposition out of the way.”  
  
“Yes, he certainly wouldn't see _that_ coming,” Alistair retorted. “And it's not like he has the advantage of experience and an army and--”  
  
“I was merely stating my opinion,” Morrigan sharply cut him off. “Do with it what you will.”  
  
“I agree with your first point, Morrigan,” Varia stated, taking both of them by surprise. “Loghain will find out about us having survived Ostagar, eventually. Why not send his men back to him with a little message from us?”  
  
“You know they'll attack us on sight,” Alistair reminded her.  
  
“Then we fight back,” she asserted, turning her face up to look at him, her grey eyes flashing once more in anger. “These are the men who let our king die, Alistair... who let Duncan die. They're the reason we're the only two Wardens alive in Ferelden right now. Should we really just slink away and not confront them about what they've done?”  
  
“You're right,” Alistair agreed. “Cowardice isn't going to get us anywhere against this Blight. Might as well start manning up now.”  
  
Morrigan scoffed a bit and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at each of them in turn.  
  
“I'm not sure whether the two of you are being brave or incredibly foolish.”  
  
“Confronting Loghain's men was _your_ idea,” Alistair reminded her. “So why not be a good little witch and show us the way to the tavern?”  
  
Morrigan turned on her heel and began making her way toward the stone bridge the young couple had previously crossed, Alistair following closely behind. Varia lagged a step behind them both, wondering just what had come over her since she first set foot in the town. Normally, she wasn't one to lose her temper so easily, but she'd just nearly lost it a second time when talking about confronting Loghain's men. The thought had even crossed her mind that they may end up killing the soldiers the teryn had left behind if they were forced to defend themselves against them... and what scared her was that the idea didn't bother her as much as it should. She had been taught that her magic was a lethal weapon, but not to be used to harm others. These men were far from innocent, though, she reasoned. They would just as soon kill her as look at her.  
  
“Got a cousin in the templars. Says all the mages at the tower are turning into demons.”  
  
“They always say that, though.”  
  
The voices of two men gossiping caught her ear as she passed by them, and she suddenly forgot what she was doing and stopped to listen in on their conversation.  
  
“Well, this time it's true,” the first man insisted, folding his arms across his chest with an air of superiority. “They're not sure what to do about it yet, he says.”  
  
“Right,” the second man drawled in disbelief. “If it is true, then I suppose them mages sure picked a fine time to go turning into demons. Perhaps they're in league with the darkspawn.”  
  
Varia started to make her way toward them, then stopped in her tracks and shook her head. It would do no good to herself or Alistair to start any sort of confrontation based solely on a rumor. Besides, the only way any mages at Kinloch Hold would be turning into demons would be if some sort of serious blood magic was taking place. The only blood mage within the tower had been Jowan, and not even he was bold enough – or stupid enough – to attempt to return after what had happened. Pushing the conversation to the back of her mind, she hurried to catch up to Morrigan and Alistair, who were just about to enter the tavern.  
  
“Ready?” Alistair asked her, his hand poised over the hilt of his sword in preparation to draw it in case they were immediately attacked upon entering the establishment. Varia nodded, holding up one hand calling a small ball of flame into her palm. She was still a bit weak from their ordeal upon the Tower of Ishal, but she knew her magic would not fail her.  
  
“Good,” Alistair said with a nod of his own, flashing a smile at her. “Let's go send these bastards back to their master then, hm?”  
  
Varia couldn't help but smile back, but a moment later their expressions hardened as she reached for the tavern door.  
  
“Here goes nothing,” she said, taking a deep breath before turning pulling open the door and entering the establishment.  
  
The tavern was just as full as Roland had described, with people having taken to sitting on the floors for lack of a place at the bar or any of the tables. Varia looked about at the patrons, searching for the familiar armor worn by Loghain's men, and soon her eyes fell upon a group of five heavily-armored men gathered around one of the larger tables in the back. No sooner had she spotted them than one of them – who she assumed to be the leader – rose from his seat and began to approach her group at the door.  
  
“Well. Look what we have here, men,” he said with a grin, and his companions began to stand from their own seats. “I think we've just been blessed.”  
  
His speech was very slightly slurred, and Varia hoped that perhaps they'd all been drinking enough that their combat skills would be negatively affected. The easier she, Alistair, and Morrigan would be able to take them down, the less likely it would be that innocent bystanders would end up injured in the crossfire.  
  
“We're outnumbered. This can't be good,” Alistair muttered next to her.  
  
“Just stand your ground,” she whispered back to him, her eyes still focused upon the leader of the group. She took a single step forward, opening her mouth to warn him to take his men and get out of town before someone got hurt, but was interrupted by an approaching Chantry sister.  
  
“Gentlemen,” the woman addressed the soldiers, her heavily-accented voice soft and kind. “Surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge.”  
  
“They are more than that,” the leader argued, unsheathing his sword and pointing its tip at her. “Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them.”  
  
“I don't need your help, miss. Please, stand back,” Varia insisted, reaching out and attempting to gently push the taller woman aside. The last thing she wanted to do was get a member of the Chantry hurt or possibly killed. The sister merely laughed a bit, turning to look at Varia. Her ice blue eyes sparkled mischievously through the messy red hair which fell into her face, a smirk barely tugging at the corner of her mouth as she spoke.  
  
“ _You_ don't need my protection, but these men will blindly follow their leader's command, even unto death.”  
  
“ _I_ am not the blind one!” the warrior corrected her, continuing to wave his sword in her direction. “I served at Ostagar, I was there when the teryn saved us from the Grey Wardens' treachery! I serve him gladly!”  
  
“The teryn left the king to die!” Alistair said, coming to stand next to Varia with is own sword drawn.  
  
“The _Wardens_ led the king to his death. The teryn could do nothing!” the soldier growled, his attention finally turning away from the sister. “Enough talk, though. Take the Wardens into custody. Kill the sister or anyone else who gets in our way.”  
  
Varia barely had time to blink before the leader's sword clashed with Alistair's, and before she knew it three of the other soldiers were bearing down upon them. Morrigan managed to freeze one of them in place, the ice from her spell fully encasing his legs and holding him in the center of the room.  Varia stepped around the duel between Alistair and the leader and carefully aimed two small lightning bolts at the other soldiers who were bearing down upon them as various other patrons screamed and hid. The bolts hit their marks and the two men dropped their weapons and crumbled to the floor as the metal from their armor increased the shocking effect of her spells.  
  
But that was only four, and she had counted five men upon their entry.  
  
She looked in the direction of the table and spied the fifth soldier, an archer with his bow fully cocked and aimed directly at Alistair's head. Varia shouted a warning to him, but before the arrow could be unleashed a hand came up behind the archer and plunged a dagger into his shoulder. He cried out in pain, his arrow flying wild and embedding itself into the ceiling above Varia's head, and she was surprised to discover the Chantry sister standing behind him when he slumped forward onto the table, clutching at the wound.  
  
That left only the leader, who was still fighting Alistair. Even drunk, he was able to swing his weapon and Varia watched blow after blow hit Alistair's sword. She bit her lip as she noticed Alistair wincing under the power of the strikes, his lingering injuries likely keeping him from fully unleashing his own torrent of strikes like she'd seen back at Ostagar. She was about to cast another spell at the leader when the mabari hound sprang past her and leapt at him. His teeth sank into the soldier's wrist, and Varia heard the distinct sound of metal crushing before the soldier dropped his sword and unleashed a string of curses at the animal as he struck out at it with his free hand. The mabari held fast and began shaking his head violently back and forth, and soon the metallic sounds became intermingled with ones of flesh tearing and bones cracking. Varia knew her companions couldn't hear the noises over the shouting, but the very knowledge of what the hound was doing to the man was enough to make her cringe.  
  
“Enough!” she called to the hound before it could completely sever the soldier's hand, and the creature looked at her for a moment before finally releasing the soldier's wrist from his vice-like jaws and returning to quietly stand at the back of the group.  
  
“All right!” the leader gasped, clutching his hand to his chest. “You've won. We surrender.”  
  
“Good,” the Chantry sister remarked, wiping the blood from her dagger with the skirt of her robes as she joined them. “They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now.”  
  
“I'm not done with him,” Varia said, shaking her head and approaching the man, who was easily twice her size. He took a step backwards and nearly tripped over one of his own men, who was still prone on the floor from her spell.  
  
“What do you want with me?” he asked, all his previous bravado gone. Varia couldn't help but smirk at the fear in his eyes.  
  
“I want you to take a message to Loghain.”  
  
“Anything,” the soldier agreed, nodding.  
  
“Tell him the Wardens know the truth about what happened at Ostagar... and we're coming for him.”  
  
“I'll tell him! Right away!”  
  
The soldier didn't even wait for his men. Instead, he chose to hastily exit the tavern and left the others behind to fend for themselves. Varia wasn't worried about any of them, though. Without someone to call the shots they would slink back to Denerim on their own, just as soon as they recovered from the fight.  
  
“I apologize for interfering,” the sister told her, bowing slightly before brushing her fiery hair back from her eyes. “I could not just sit by and not help.”  
  
“Thank you for your assistance,” Varia said, remembering just how close Alistair had come to receiving a fatal shot. “I have to wonder, though... just where does a Chantry sister learn to use a dagger like that?”  
  
“I wasn't born in the Chantry, you know,” the sister replied, the mischievous gleam once more in her eyes. “Many of us led more.... colorful lives before we joined. But allow me to introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.”  
  
“I am Varia,” she introduced herself, then turned to her companions. “This is Alistair, Morrigan, and... well...” She paused when her eyes fell upon the Mabari, who gave her a hopeful look. “I haven't given you a name yet, have I, boy?”  
  
The hound barked, his tail wagging as he waited for his mistress to bestow a moniker upon him.  
  
“I haven't decided upon one just yet, but I promise I will,” she assured him.  
  
“They said you were a Grey Warden. I'm surprised you're an elf, but I suppose elves must want the Blight defeated just as much as humans, no?”  
  
Leliana's question caused Varia to shift a bit uncomfortably on her feet. She would have expected a comment from a member of the Chantry about her being a mage, but the fact that her race was once more being pointed out as the oddity bothered her more than being called out upon her use of magic ever could have.  
  
“I... I am sorry if I've offended you,” Leliana immediately apologized. “I meant no ill by my words.”  
  
“I appreciate you saying so,” Varia replied, marveling at how well the woman seemed to have read her.  
  
“Anyhow, I know after what happened you will need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming with you.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Alistair said, chuckling. “ _You_ want to come with _us_?”  
  
“The Maker told me to join you. Surely He would not do so without good reason?”  
  
The Wardens shared a look of disbelief, and a glance back over her shoulder showed Varia that even Morrigan was dumbfounded by the woman's remark.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Varia said, turning her attention to Leliana once more. “You say _the Maker_ told you to join us?”  
  
“I-I know it sounds... absolutely insane,” Leliana admitted, hanging her head shamefully. “But it's true! I had a dream...a vision!”  
  
“ _More_ crazy?” Alistair muttered, glancing at Morrigan. “I thought we were all full up.”  
  
“Look at the people here,” Leliana addressed him. “They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos... will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are _meant_ to do, is the Maker's work. Please, let me help!”  
  
“She has a point, Alistair,” Varia admitted.  
  
“Help how, exactly?” Alistair wondered. “By offering your prayers as we attempt to quell the Blight?”  
  
“I can fight,” Leliana told him. “I can more than fight. As I said, I was not always a lay sister. I put aside that life when I came here, but now... if it is the Maker's will, I will take it up again. Gladly.”  
  
Varia considered her offer. It was true, she could fight. That much was obvious from how she'd taken out that archer. She also seemed to have some astute observation skills. Perhaps she was a bit... crazy, but they really weren't in any position to turn down help when it was offered. She looked to Alistair for his opinion, and he gave her a reluctant nod.  
  
“Fine, you can come with us,” he told Leliana.  
  
“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought,” Morrigan groaned as she turned and exited the tavern.  
  
“Thank you!” Leliana reached out and took one of each of their hands in her own. “You will not regret this decision, I promise you. I _will not_ let you down. I must gather my things from the chantry, but then I will be ready to set off.”  
  
Varia watched her leave the tavern, then turned to Alistair. He refused to look at her, and it wasn't until she reached up and touched the side of his face that he finally acknowledged that she was still there with him.  
  
“She saved your life, you know,” she informed him. “One of the soldiers was an archer and he was about to shoot you in the head. Leliana stopped him.”  
  
“I still say she's insane,” Alistair grumbled.  
  
“Maybe she is,” Varia agreed, shrugging a bit. “She's still another blade to help us cut down the darkspawn, though, and right now that's what we need.”  
  
He met her eyes then, and Varia could see that it wasn't Leliana's addition to their party which was truly troubling him. She had an idea what was on his mind, but she didn't want to make him uncomfortable by bringing it up in the presence of the patrons of the tavern. On instinct, she leaned up and kissed his cheek to reassure him, then went to the bar and payed the tavern keeper some silver from the bandits' takings to help cover the costs of any damage their fight might have caused to his property.  
  
“Shall we go to the chantry, then?” she asked him once she rejoined him at the door.  
  
“Hm?” Alistair mumbled, lost in his own thoughts. “Oh... right. Yes. Let's go gather up the crazy girl and be on our way.”


End file.
